


Seamus' Secret

by saturdaychild29



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9881966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturdaychild29/pseuds/saturdaychild29
Summary: Seamus finds out he has less than a year to break an ancestral curse that will lead to a permanent separation from his family and an uncertain future.  Or, more directly, Seamus is turning into a leprechaun and must fall in love to break the curse.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure how long this story is going to be. However, I’ve run out of Seamus/Hermione stories to read. So, I decided to write one. It’s not going to be an immediately apparent love story, you know with Seamus trying to avoid becoming a leprechaun and all. :-)
> 
> I’ll try not to post each chapter until the next one is written. I’m planning to focus on Seamus/Hermione. However, I’m thinking about adding additional pairings along the way (Ginny/Harry and Parvati/Dean, mainly).
> 
> Finally, I suck at accents. So, although I know Seamus is Irish, he won’t sound it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I own nothing!

Seamus eyed his boot quizzically.  “That’s strange.”  He mused aloud as he laced up his shoes. 

It was a week before students were due back to Hogwarts, following the triumphant defeat of Voldemort.  Today was his 18th birthday, but with everything that had happened over the last year, he didn’t particularly feel like celebrating. Even so, he was planning to meet some of his friends at Diagon Alley later this afternoon.  Besides, he had to buy his textbooks at some point.  Despite technically repeating a year, he could do with managing to not explode his cauldron for once—especially with his N.E.W.T.S. coming up.

“What, dear?”  His mom asked as she busily finished making breakfast.  His mother had not been thrilled that Seamus was going to be away most of the day.  However, they’d manage to reach a compromise.  After meeting his friends, Seamus would be back in time for dinner and he and his parents would go meet with the rest of the Finnigan family for a celebratory dinner.  Seamus _hated_ grand gestures.  However, despite it being _his_ birthday, he knew enough to know that one does not argue with a certain Margaret Finnigan. 

Seamus shook his head.  “These shoes have fit me for ages, but now suddenly, they feel big. It’s probably nothing.  I’ve just laced them differently or something.”  He finished tying his laces and resumed reading the Daily Prophet, wondering if any more former Death Eaters had been apprehended.

His mother, however, was not nearly as calm.  Instantly, she dropped her mixing spoon and turned.  Her face had paled dramatically.  “Go get your father.”  She ordered. 

Seamus stared at his mum blankly. 

“Now!”  His mother repeated, a bit more frantically this time.

Seamus rolled his eyes, but did as she asked.

He found his father outside, working in the barn.  In truth, it was where he ought to have been as well, but he’d been given a reprieve on his duties today, to give him more time to purchase his texts and catch up with friends—many of whom he hadn’t seen since the final battle.

“Mum wants to see you.”  Seamus started.

“What about?”  The elder Finnigan asked tiredly.  It was only around 9 am, but he’d been up since closer to 4.  _The farm wouldn’t just take care of itself_ , Seamus’ father often said.

“Dunno.”  Seamus shrugged as his father set down his tools and followed him inside.

“Liam, _it’s happening_!”  Seamus’ mother stressed as the two came into the house.

“What?”  Liam Finnigan appeared just as confused as his son.

“ _It_!”  She hissed.

“Maggie, darling, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  Seamus’ father eyed his wife impatiently.  “Is breakfast almost ready?”  He asked curiously.

Maggie was not to be deterred.  She eyed her husband expectantly.  “Remember what I told you after you learned I was a witch?”  Seamus’ mother clarified.

It was Liam’s turn to pale.  “But you said the odds of that were astronomical, especially with my being a Muggle and not being a direct descendant of…”  He trailed off uncertainly.

About this time, Seamus was starting to feel uncomfortable.  He coughed.  “Um, sorry.  Mum, Dad, what is this about?”  He asked uncertainly.

Both of his parents stared at him with a look that Seamus had never seen before. 

“Seamus,” his mother began slowly.  “Let’s get some breakfast.”

~

“I’m _what?_ ”  Seamus yelled in disbelief as the three sat around the kitchen table.  His mother jerked back and his father just shot him a pained expression.

When neither parent said anything, Seamus continued.  “Mum, honestly, it was just a pair of shoes.  I’m not turning into a leprechaun.  How can you even say that?”  He asked.

His mother was not to be deterred.  “Go to the doorway,” she uttered carefully.

“Why?”  Seamus asked, still upset.

“Remember when we used to take your height every year?”

“Yeah, so?  I’ve probably grown taller, what’s the point?”  Seamus rolled his eyes.

“We can only hope.”  Seamus’ father finally muttered, inspecting his empty coffee cup.  

Seamus got up, nearly knocking over his kitchen chair in the process.  Both of his parents watched as he lined himself up against the wall.  His mother grabbed a pencil and marked Seamus’ height, sucking in a breath as she did so.

“There, now.  See, Mum.”  Seamus asked, annoyed with how ridiculous his parents were being.  His frustration faded when he turned around.  Seamus looked between his mum and the spot she had just marked against the wall.  It was half an inch below the last marking from a year ago. 

“No.”  He started, his eyes boring into that spot on the wall.  “That can’t be.  Mum, you must’ve marked it wrong.”  He looked back at his mum pleadingly.  “Dad?”  He asked when his mum said nothing.

“It’s no mistake.”  His mother stated quietly.

Seamus’ legs didn’t feel nearly as steady as they had only moments before.

“So, you were never going to tell me?”  He eyed his parents angrily.  His dad stared back at him.

“ _We_ didn’t think it was possible.”  His dad began as he refilled his coffee.

Seamus’ gaze shifted to his mum accusingly.

“Mum, you knew that this could happen and you said nothing? Perhaps when I got accepted into Hogwarts? ‘Oh, Seamus, congratulations on being a wizard.  By the way, there’s a small chance that my ancestors’ curse might’ve passed onto you.  Good luck!’”  Seamus scoffed as he sat back down.  “Bloody happy 18th birthday to me.” He bit into what remained of his toast.

“Seamus!”  His father scolded angrily.

Seamus scowled at his parents, but remained silent.

“It’s like your father said.”  Margaret started cautiously.  “We didn’t think it was likely.  Between your father being nonmagical and not being a direct descendant of one of the four cursed Tuatha Dé Danann—and the fact that it rarely strikes every generation more than once—we figured your odds were low.”

Seamus eyed his mother, sudden realization dawning.  “Fergus isn’t dead, is he?”  He asked his parents slowly.

“No.”  His mother said evenly.

“So, you just _lied_ to me about _everything_?”

“We didn’t lie.”  His father started.

“With everything that’s happened the last few years, with all the rumors about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named coming back into power, with the last year you had under the Carrows…”  Seamus’ mum trailed off.  “We just figured that it would be one less thing for you to worry about.”

“Oh, well I’m certainly not worried _now_.”  Seamus said sarcastically.  He paused.  “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about Fergus.  He was my favorite cousin and you just let me think that he’d _died_?”  Seamus stressed.  “How could you?”

“Telling you would only invite more questions—and you weren’t ready to hear the answers.”  Margaret responded, her tone was matter-of-fact, but her expression was decidedly guilty.

“Don’t you think I coulda decided that for myself?  I fought in the Final Battle.  I could’ve _died_ not knowing the truth.”  Seamus’ gaze was stony.

At this, Seamus’ mum started to cry. “We should’ve told you.”  She finally said.  “I just didn’t want to worry you.  Worst case scenario, we figured you would be alright.  You’d been dating that Lavender girl for a year and, if your letters home were any indication, you were in love.  Even if the curse struck, you would be safe from it.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“That ‘Lavender girl’ is dead.”  Seamus said sourly.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”  He grabbed his backpack and stomped out of the house without another word.

~

Hermione was feeling a bit lonesome as she sat alone on the Hogwarts Express.  It shouldn’t have surprised her that neither Ron nor Harry had opted to return for a repeat of their final year.  The Ministry had offered all three of them their choice of career options after Voldemort was finally defeated.  Ron and Harry had taken up Kingsley Shacklebot’s generous order.  Each was now rigorously preparing for their upcoming Auror training.  Ever the proponent for fairness, Hermione had opted to return to Hogwarts, take her N.E.W.T.S. and then pursue a career. 

Ron had called her mental.  Hermione had threatened to hex him.  Ever the peacemaker, Harry had sat both of them down and quietly forced Ron to apologize, while extending his congratulations to Hermione.  “We’ll miss you ‘Mione.”  He had said.  By the end, all three had promised to write one another.  Harry had been particularly interested in who among their year would decide to return.  Hermione hoped that she wouldn’t be the only one.

She was interrupted from her recollections by a soft knock on the compartment door.  “Come in!”  Hermione greeted, happy to hopefully have someone else to talk with on the train ride.

Seamus tentatively poked his head in.  “Hermione?”  The young Irishman looked fairly disheveled.  No, Hermione thought.  It was more than that.  He looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Yes?”  Hermione asked curiously as Seamus sat opposite of her.

“I need your help.”  He said finally.

~


	2. A Hogwarts Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2! I own nothing! :-)

“So, let me get this straight,” Hermione started.  “You’re turning into a leprechaun because of an ancestral curse?”

Seamus nodded miserably.

“And you only found out a week ago?”  Hermione asked, shocked.

Seamus nodded again.  “My parents didn’t want to ‘worry me’” He spat bitterly.  “Oh and my cousin Fergus? Not dead. Just a leprechaun. Somewhere.”

“How about you start from the beginning?”  Hermione’s tone was kind as she handed Seamus a chocolate frog that she’d purchased from the trolley earlier.  He most definitely needed it more than she did.

Seamus sighed heavily.  “Turns out that my mum’s descended from a group of Irish gods.  Unfortunately, it seems like a few of them—one of my mum’s direct descendants included—managed to majorly tick off a powerful, evil sorceress.”

“What happened?”  Hermione asked curiously.

“Well, it all started when Carman—a sorceress from Athens—decided to invade Ireland with three of her sons: Dub, Dothur and Dian.  They attacked Ireland and destroyed the crops.  The Tuatha Dé Danann—a group of Irish gods who resided there— rose against her.  Four of them—a god of poetry, a satirist, a good sorceress and a magician—were finally able to defeat Carman and her sons by temporarily subduing her magic.  As a result, Carman was imprisoned and her sons were exiled.  As you might imagine, she didn’t take that particularly well.”  Seamus stopped to catch his breath. 

“While imprisoned, she died of loneliness.  With her dying breath—as the powerful spell bindings wore off— she cursed the descendants of the four who were directly responsible for her fate.  Specifically, male descendants who fail to fall in love before their 19th birthday will become leprechauns and be forced to abandon their families.  By doing so, she managed to curse both generations.  The obvious curse is with the son.”  He continued.

“…but it also curses the mother—forcing her to feel the same trauma and powerlessness that Carman undoubtedly felt when she was separated from her sons.”  Hermione finished as a wave of understanding filled her. 

“Evil or not, she was still a mother.”  Hermione paused.  “I guess that explains where leprechauns come from.”  She noted sadly.  “Every text I read on the subject never had a clear answer.” 

“They don’t call you the brightest witch for nothing.”  Seamus grinned wryly.  “Now you know why I came to you for help.”

“Well of course I’ll help you.  I guess the first thing is to learn as much as we can about the curse.  Have people successfully broken it?”  Hermione asked curiously.

“I’d assume so.” Seamus returned.  “After all, if they didn’t, I don’t much think I’d be around.”

“Unless it was passed down to you exclusively through a female line…” Hermione mused. “How long do you have?”  She asked.

“I have to find love within the year or I’m doomed.”  Seamus said glumly.

“Not necessarily.”  Hermione thought aloud. “If we can figure out the exact words Carman said, maybe we can come up with a counter-curse.  We can talk to McGonagall when we get to Hogwarts.”

“No!”  Seamus said immediately.  When Hermione stared at him, Seamus continued.  “Er, what I meant was that I’d prefer to keep this between you and me for now.”

Hermione looked at Seamus as though he were a colossal idiot.  Seamus knew that he probably was, but if he and the brunette witch had anything in common it was stubbornness and a general reluctance to accept help—even when desperately needed.  

“Please?”  He asked, willing her to understand.  “I don’t want anyone else to know just yet.”

Hermione nodded.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “I promise to keep your secret for now. However,” she eyed him carefully, “if we can’t find anything on our own, you have to talk to McGonagall.  If you won’t, then I will.”  She added resolutely.

Seamus sighed.  This was probably the best arrangement he was going to get.  “Okay.”  He agreed and he and Hermione shook hands.

Just then, the compartment door slid open once again.  Neville smiled uncertainly at Seamus and Hermione.  “Hey guys.  It’s good to see you both.  I wasn’t sure how many Gryffindors were going to return this year.  Dean and Parvati are toward the front, but other than you lot, I think that’s it.”  He said as he took a seat next to Seamus.  “You alright, Mate?”  He asked, noting Seamus’ appearance.

“Peachy.”  Seamus stated and began staring out the window.

Neville shot Hermione a confused glance.

“His mum all but forced him to return to Hogwarts.”  Hermione lied easily.

“Oh.”  Neville said, instantly sobering.  “I’m sorry.” He said, eying Seamus.

“S’ok.”  Seamus muttered, not taking his eyes off the window, watching as rolling green hills zoomed by.

“Dean said you were happy to be coming back….but I guess with everything…Lavender…I don’t blame you.”  Neville trailed off nervously.  “We were kind of worried when you didn’t show last week.  Glad you’re okay though.”

When Seamus only grunted an affirmation, Neville turned to Hermione.  “Honestly, I didn’t expect to see you here.  Didn’t Shacklebot offer you any career you wanted?” 

Hermione raised a brow.  “After your bravery last year, I could’ve sworn he said the same to you.”

Neville blushed. “Yeah, well.  I didn’t think it was right.  I didn’t want special treatment.”

“Neither did I.”  Hermione smiled as she heard Hagrid’s voice outside, bidding the ‘firs’ years’ to come with him.

They were officially back.

~

“Thanks for covering for me.”  Seamus said when the two of them were alone again.  Hermione was sitting on the couch closest to the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room.  Seamus settled into an oversized armchair to her right.  Carefully, he sat down a pile of books.

The room was strangely quiet. Most of the house were already fast asleep.  Then again, Seamus could hardly blame them.  It was one in the morning.

Hermione shrugged as she turned a page in one of the many books she’d checked out from library.

“I think I’ve done more reading tonight than I’ve done during my entire time at Hogwarts.”  Seamus quipped when Hermione failed to look at him.

He sighed heavily.  “What?”

“You could’ve been nicer to Neville.”  Hermione said finally.  “He’s your friend too and you ignored him on the train.  Then, in the Great Hall, you refused to talk to anyone.  If you’re trying to convince everyone that nothing’s wrong, you’re doing a terrible job.”  She admonished.

“I know.”  Seamus stated guiltily.

Hermione’s tone softened.  “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now, but Neville was genuinely worried about you.” She eyed him. “They all are.”  She finished.

After they’d gotten to Hogwarts, Seamus had avoided everyone.  Once the feast had ended, he had immediately retreated to his room to review all the literature he’d brought with him. 

His mum had found several books filled with family history.  She was hoping that there was some clue in there about overcoming the curse—that generations of families had missed.  Seamus hadn’t been nearly as optimistic.  After all, Fergus had had access to the same books.  Brilliant as he’d been, Fergus had become a leprechaun when he turned 19. 

Seamus looked at the floor before addressing Hermione.  “You’re right.  I’ll apologize in the morning.”  Seamus nodded affirmatively to emphasize that he would.  “Any luck finding anything that might help break the curse?”  He asked hopefully.

“Not really.”  Hermione admitted, shutting her book with a loud snap.  She caught Seamus’ crestfallen expression.  “But, we’ll find something.”  She added quickly.  “We’ve only just started researching.  How about you?”

“Well, it looks like the curse is pretty smart.  I found an account of a distant cousin from the 1600s.  Turns out he got married to try to beat the curse.  Didn’t work because apparently, he wasn’t really in love with the lass he married.” 

“Well, it’s a start.  I hate to admit it, but so far, you’re having better luck than me.”  Hermione continued.  “I wish I could find a historical, _magical_  account of what really happened—but it seems like most of the writings on the subject were published by Muggles.”

“And, of course, most Muggles believe that myths are just loose accounts of history.”  Seamus groaned.

“In their defense, some myths _are_.”  Hermione reminded him gently.

“Not this one.”  Seamus felt his shoulders sink. He really didn’t want to become a leprechaun.  Unfortunately, he didn’t think it much likely that he’d somehow manage to fall in love with a years’ time.  Worse, he now had incontrovertible evidence that it couldn’t be a manufactured love.  Simply getting married or even saying, ‘I love you’ would not be enough to break the curse if there was no actual love behind it.  With Lavender gone—and his mum was right, he _had_ loved her—Seamus knew the odds of him feeling that way again were nearly zero.  It had only been a few months and though he didn’t talk about it, his grief at losing his first love remained raw.  He had dropped Astronomy this year for obvious reasons.  Simply put, he wasn’t ready to visit that part of the castle.

“We’ll find something.”  Hermione repeated gently.  “But,” she continued, adopting a motherly tone, as she noticed the dark circles under Seamus’ eyes, “we’ll get nowhere without some rest.  We have classes tomorrow and I doubt Professor Slughorn will be appreciative if we fall asleep on the first day of his Potions class.” 

“I don’t know.”  Seamus allowed himself a slight grin.  “He might be grateful.  If I’m asleep, I can’t blow up one of his prized cauldrons.”

“If you fall asleep, that’s one more lesson you’ll have to study on your own time.  Exams will be here before you know it.”  Hermione reminded him.

Seamus rolled his eyes.  “Only you would bring up N.E.W.T.S.  on the eve of the first day of classes.”  He paused, as if contemplating. “Then again, I suppose when I’m shepherding luck this way and that, it’ll be nice to know how to brew the Draught of Peace and which goblin rebellions were most influential.”  He grinned sardonically.

“Don’t think like that.”  Hermione said, willing her expression to be optimistic.  “You need to study for exams because we’re going to break this curse and then you’ll need your N.E.W.T.S. for whatever career you want to pursue.”

The two had grabbed their respective texts and were attempting to navigate the long stairway which led to the girls’ and boys’ dormitories.  Hermione followed Seamus, intending to make sure that he actually did go to sleep, rather than spend the night downstairs beside the fireplace, numbly staring at ink-stained pages. 

Admittedly, this was a situation that Hermione never thought she’d experience.  Then again, she’d never thought that Seamus would be facing the very real chance of becoming a leprechaun.  In fact, if she were being completely honest, prior to today—and maybe the time when she realized that Seamus had been one of the three to cast a Patronus to defend Harry during the Great Battle—she rarely thought of the blue-eyed wizard at all.

Seamus seemed to sense that this interaction was new territory for both of them.  “Why shouldn’t I think like that?  If you, the greatest witch our generation has ever seen, are stumped, how can I be optimistic?”

“Seamus Finnigan.”  Hermione adopted a tone that she most often reserved for Ron whenever he said or did something stupid— _which was often_ , Seamus noted.  He prepared himself for what was sure to be a lecture.

The two had reached the top of the stairs and the brunette was staring at Seamus with a look of absolute—well _something_.  Seamus couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  What he did know was that in that moment, he felt for Ronald Weasley—and to think, he had once mercilessly teased the red-headed wizard for constantly being on the receiving end of Hermione’s rantings and ravings. If Seamus ever encountered Ron after this, he would immediately apologize for any and all previously-made jokes.

Seamus realized that amidst all of this, Hermione had been adamantly lecturing.

“…and furthermore, it’s only day one.  You survived the Battle of Hogwarts.  You can survive this.”  Hermione was saying.

Seamus sighed, not wanting to admit that he’d missed the first part of her speech.  “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.  After all, as you said, I am ‘the brightest witch of our age.’”  Hermione raised an eyebrow to signify that she was joking. 

Seamus noted that despite saving countless Gryffindors through a mixture of wit and sheer determination over the years, it was rare for Hermione to own the kind things said of her.  “I suppose I did say that.”  He stated slowly.

“And if I recall correctly, I promised that I would help—and I will.”  Hermione finished determinedly. 

“Well, if anyone can, it’s you.”  Seamus stifled a yawn. 

“But neither of us will be much use if we’re too tired to think straight.”  Hermione shot Seamus a meaningful gaze.

Seamus sighed.  “I s’pose you’re right. G’night then.”  He said before another yawn escaped.  “And Hermione?”

“Mmhm?”  Hermione asked.

“Thanks.”  He said softly before heading toward the boys’ dormitory, quietly closing the door behind him.

~


	3. First Day Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 3. I still have no idea how long this story will end up being, but I'm really enjoying writing it. 
> 
> The only things that are mine are the errors. ;-)
> 
> P.S. I'm still looking for more Seamus/Hermione pairings to read, but can't seem to find that many. If anyone has any favorites and is willing to share, I would be extremely grateful.

Sleep didn’t come easy for Seamus.  It hadn’t since the war.  As soon as Seamus closed his eyes he saw her face.  Her eyes—her beautiful blue eyes—unseeing as she lay still.  He should’ve been there.  He should have done something.  He told himself.  Seamus hadn’t even been there for her last breath. 

_How were you to know that she’d end up in the Astronomy Tower with Greyback_?  His mind reminded him.  _Everyone was fighting.  If not her, it would’ve been someone else_ , his mind was insistent.  “Why couldn’t it have been someone else?”  He wondered aloud, while the rest of Gryffindor slept. 

Fate didn’t answer.  She never did.

Seamus thought back to when he and Lavender had started spending time together.  Certainly, they’d gone to the Yule Ball together fourth year, but that had only been as friends.  Looking back, Seamus knew that Lavender had only done that to make Ron jealous.  But, after sixth year—after she and Ron had permanently gone their separate ways—everything between Seamus and Lavender had changed. 

With Hermione, Ron and Harry away, hunting and destroying Horcruxes, it had been up to the rest of them to protect the younger students from the wrath of Death Eaters and misguided Ministry workers alike.  It was then that Seamus saw what had been in front of him all along.  Sure, at first glance, Lavender may have seemed like your average teenage girl: pretty and perhaps a bit too giggly.  And yet, it was her uplifting spirit that had helped to guide them through perhaps the darkest year that any of them had ever known.  She may not have been Hermione Granger, but Lavender Brown was smart in a different way.  She knew how to read people and she knew just what to say to make things a little better and make the world a little brighter for her friends. 

Sometimes, Seamus remembered fondly, she’d pour on the optimism a little too generously. One day, after a particularly brutal session with Umbridge, Seamus had asked her why she had to be bubbly all the time.  Her response would stick with him forever.

_Seamus, the world is an unhappy place.  Why should we fill it with more of the same?  I don’t mind if I aggravate some people with my personality.  If people are upset with me, then they’re distracted from whatever had them down in the first place.  Isn’t that worth something?_

Lavender had stared at him as she’d said it—as though it was the most obvious truth one could imagine.   

For certain, it hadn’t been the response that Seamus had been expecting.  Then again, as he would learn, Lavender Brown was full of surprises.

Seamus felt a bittersweet smile trace the edges of his mouth.  It had been the eve of their first kiss.   

He could practically taste that stupid Muggle chapstick that she insisted on wearing.  _Dr. Pepper-flavored_ , she had explained.  Despite growing up with many Muggle traditions, Seamus was unfamiliar with Dr. Pepper.  So, of course, over the holidays, Lavender had gone out and found every Muggle soda she could get her hands on and—perhaps more impressively—she’d managed to smuggle all of them into Hogwarts.  Then again, maybe the Carrows hadn’t thought that a pureblood would be interested in Muggle things.  Seamus mused.

Lavender had made him taste-test every single soda over the course of a week.  Seamus must’ve tried at least a dozen different drinks.  He remembered arguing with her on the merits of Muggle soda versus butterbeer.  Despite trying a myriad of new-fangled fizzy drinks, Seamus maintained that butterbeer was still far superior. 

Lavender had been incredulous. _You can’t be serious!_ She had exclaimed in shock.  _Soda has so many options.  Butterbeer comes in one flavor: bland and boring._  

Seamus had been unmoved.  _You can’t improve upon perfection_ , he’d countered.

At this, Lavender had stuck out her lower lip.  _Obviously, you haven’t tried the right soda yet._   She’d said matter-of-factly.  _Don’t worry,_ she had said impishly.  _We’ll find you one you like before the year’s up,_ she’d said before winking at him cheekily. 

And, just as quickly, Seamus had found himself with his arms wrapped around this beautiful girl’s waist, conceding that maybe, just maybe there was a Muggle drink out there better than butterbeer.  

The memory quickly soured as reality struck—as it often did.  Lavender Brown, beautiful, sweet, wonderful Lavender was gone.  It was unfair that the girl who had provided so much hope over the last year was not here to share in this year’s new beginning.  Seamus felt the tears beginning to well.  Gods, he missed her.

_Then again,_ Seamus’ internal voice reminded him.  _At least she’s not here to watch her boyfriend turn into a leprechaun_.

He pushed that voice away, but as usual his mind was not to be dissuaded from resuming its jumbled-up thoughts. 

Just as he found himself tumbling down another rabbit hole, Hermione’s voice filled his head.

_You can survive this_ , she had said.  She’d seemed so insistent.

Then again, Hermione was like that with every challenge she faced.  Why should his be any different?

Seamus decided he’d had enough to think for the night.  Eventually, he struggled into a dreamless sleep.

~

Seamus didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but before he knew it, voices flooded the boys’ dormitory.

“Should we wake him up?”  Neville asked cautiously.  “He seemed a bit on edge yesterday.”

“He’ll be a whole lot more on edge if we let him sleep through his first day.”  Dean countered.

“Even so…”  Neville seemed reluctant. 

Seamus whipped open the curtain surrounding his bed.  “How about I save you both the trouble?”  He asked, smiling at his fellow Gryffindors as he popped out of bed. “Should we head to breakfast then?”  He continued, noting their equally shocked faces. 

_A far cry from yesterday_ , Seamus thought, pleased with himself.  He’d promised Hermione that he was going to try.  So, here he was.  _Maybe it was too much_ , he thought as the others remained silent.

“Erm, sure.”  Neville finally found his voice as he looked at Seamus as though the Irishman had finally lost all his marbles, “But-”

“You might want to put on pants first, Mate.”  Dean smirked.

Seamus looked down and promptly blushed. “Er, right.  Sorry.  If you guys wouldn’t mind turning ‘round for a minute…” He trailed off.

“It’s too late.  The damage is done.”  Dean shook his head.

Seamus rolled his eyes as he got dressed.  “Better?”  He asked once he was fully clothed.

“Much.”  Dean acknowledged.  “I know we’re best friends and all, but really, there are some things that you can happily keep to yourself.”

“Can we just get breakfast?”  Neville interjected, desperate for a subject change.

“I don’t know.  Can you really eat right now?”  Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

Seamus punched his friend good-naturedly.  “Shut up, would you?”

“Seriously, how do you forget that you’ve fallen asleep naked?”  Dean shook his head as the three sat at the corner of the Gryffindor table.

“Who fell asleep naked?”  Parvati wanted to know.  She and Hermione were sitting a few seats over.

“Neville.”  Seamus said smirking.

Dean nearly spit up his pumpkin juice while Neville reddened. “I did _not_.”  He finally said.

“Sorry, yeah.  That was me.”  Seamus amended to the equally-shocked faces of Hermione and Parvati. 

“So, who’s ready for potions?”  He asked before shoving a giant spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.

~

Professor Slughorn surveyed his nearly empty classroom.  Despite the Headmistress’s best hopes, few former 7th years from any house had opted to return.  Before him, five Gryffindors and two Slytherins watched him carefully.  He took note of each of their faces.

_Draco Malfoy_

_Theodore Nott_

_Seamus Finnigan_

_Hermione Granger_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Parvati Patil_

_Dean Thomas_

He wondered who from his former class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws remained.  He would find out tomorrow, he supposed.

Accustomed to the normal animosity between Slytherins and Gryffindor, Slughorn found the persistent silence unnerving. 

“Well,” Horace cleared his throat nervously.  “I suppose it’s time we begin.  To each of you who has returned today, I say welcome.  As the Headmistress has no doubt emphasized in each of your invitations, this year marks a fresh start for all of us.”  His eyes rested on each student for no more than a few seconds as he spoke.  None, he noticed, would quite meet his gaze.

“I think today, we’ll start with a review of good potions brewing practices.  There will be no practical component for today’s class.”  He looked pointedly at Seamus and Neville as he said this. 

At this, the two Slytherins managed a weak snort between them.

Professor Slughorn eyed his still borderline comatose class.  “If you’ve brought parchment and quills, now would be a good time to make use of them.”  He advised.  Instantly, the class was abuzz as students prepared to take notes.

Pleased to have broken his students out of their daze, Slughorn clasped his hands together and begin lecturing about the importance of careful ingredient preparations.

Seamus noted that the pudgy professor did not break stride once in the nearly two-hour lecture.  His hand ached from diligently taking notes.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he sensed that Slughorn was finally wrapping up.

“….And that concludes today’s lecture.  I’ll expect a foot-long essay on the merits of freshly cut ingredients above those prepared days or even months in advance.”  Slughorn added, practically yelling over students as they gratefully packed up their schoolbags.

“Next week, we’ll discuss brewing techniques for liquid luck.  There _will_ be a practical component.  So, come ready to brew—and I’ll appreciate it if class ends with the same number of cauldrons we begin with, Misters Finnigan and Longbottom!”  He eyed the Gryffindor section once more.

Neville and Seamus exchanged a look.  “Guess my ‘proclivity for pyrotechnics’ continues to precede me.”  Seamus muttered as the five Gryffindors walked to their next class. 

Dean and Neville laughed.  “Well you did blow up a bridge.”  Dean pointed out.

“That was different.”  Seamus said quietly. 

“And that was on purpose.”  Neville added, hoping to move past the sticky subject. 

No one wanted to talk about the war.  It was easier to pretend that they were all just back in school for another year.  Nevermind that its aftermath was tough to escape from.  The professors were trying, but it was obvious looking at the faces of anyone older than a fourth year that adjusting to a post-war Hogwarts was going to take some time.

Parvati and Hermione were busy discussing which classes they planned to focus on this year.  From the sound of it, Hermione was successfully winning her bid to convert Parvati from Divination to Arithmancy.  

Then again, Seamus had willingly signed up for Arithmancy in lieu of easy-O Divination for the same unspoken reason that Parvati now was agreeing to talk to McGonagall about switching her schedule after class.  _Lavender._   Memories of the blonde-haired witch were everywhere, not least in her favorite subject.

This reminded him.  “Hey guys?”  Seamus asked suddenly.  Dean and Neville looked at him expectantly.

“Erm, sorry for yesterday. I just-” Seamus faltered.  “It’s hard, y’know?” 

He knew that they would’ve automatically chalked up his behavior to having a hard time coming back to Hogwarts—same as all of them.  Except, unlike most of them, Seamus was a little more known for wearing his frustrations on his sleeve.  

Neville and Dean nodded understandingly.  Neville spoke first. “It’s hard for all of us.  But, we’ll get through it together.” He affirmed, shooting Seamus a smile to indicate that he was forgiven for yesterday.

~

The five Gryffindors had Transfiguration to themselves.  Surprisingly, despite being the newly-appointed headmistress, Professor McGonagall had opted to continue teaching.  As she surveyed her classroom, Seamus felt her gaze linger on him a bit longer than expected.

“Mister Finnigan.”  Professor McGonagall said slowly, as she allowed herself a small smile.  “I must be frank.  I did not expect to see you back here.”

Seamus nodded.  “Quite frankly, I didn’t much expect to be back.”

His tone was light, but Professor McGonagall noted his burdened expression.  “Well then.”  She eyed the five students.  “Let’s start off with a bit of review from fourth year, shall we?”  She passed out porcupines.  “Now, I’m sure you remember this particular task.  I hope that by the end of class, each of you can present me with a satisfactory pincushion.”

Seamus nudged Dean.  “Hopefully, yours doesn’t curl up in fright whenever someone approaches it with a pin this time.”

Neville laughed from where he sat in front of them.

“Shut up.”  Dean muttered, as he went to work.  “It was _one_ time.”

Surprisingly, Seamus usually fared well in courses that had minimal potential for explosions—including Transfiguration.  However, today, he couldn’t seem to vanish all of his porcupine’s quills.  He looked over at his friends, but soon realized that they would offer no help.  Neville and Dean were still trying to get their porcupines to remain stationary. 

Seamus looked over at Hermione.  A perfect, deep purple pincushion sat in front of her. Her nose was buried in a book.  Seamus strained to see the title.  The Metrical Dindshenchas, he read.

He got up quickly and tapped her on the shoulder.  Hermione nearly jumped a foot.

“Sorry,” Seamus said quickly.  “I was just wondering if you could help me vanish the quills off my porcupine, since you know, you’re the only one who’s managed to cast the spell perfectly so far.”  He smiled hopefully.

“Hey!”  Parvarti scoffed to Hermione’s left.  She gestured to her pink pincushion.

Seamus raised an eyebrow and crept closer to the pincushion.  “Boo!”  He whispered.

The pink pincushion scurried away, frantically burying itself in Parvati’s parchment.

“You were saying?”  Seamus asked.

“You’re a right git sometimes, you know that?”  Parvati uttered through clenched teeth.  

Seamus smiled cheekily.  “Sorry.  Try this.”  He whispered a soft incantation and the pink pincushion finally stilled.

“How’d you do that?”  Parvati asked, eyebrows raised.

“Picked it up from my cousin Fergus.”  Seamus winked and scribbled something on Parvati’s parchment.  “That should do it.”

Hermione read the incantation over Parvati’s shoulder.  “Your cousin’s pretty brilliant.”  She noted, before her face fell.

Seamus nodded, noticing her change in expression.  “So, will you help me?”  He winked at her, hoping she knew this meant that he was willing to try his best this year—no matter what happened.

“I s’pose.”  Hermione imitated Seamus and he knew she’d gotten his meaning. 

She set her book down and followed Seamus back to his workstation.  “I think it’s all in your wand motion.  You’ve got the words right.”  She glanced at Seamus’ hand as he waved his wand, practicing the motions as she demonstrated.

“What kind of wand is that anyway?”  Hermione asked, not wanting to get too close while Seamus was casting.

“Red oak, with a phoenix core.”  Seamus said without looking up.  “Why?”

“Just curious.”  Hermione asked, watching as Seamus successfully removed the last of the porcupine quills from his pincushion.  She wracked her brain, trying to think of traits associated with red oak. 

_Red oak is less common than the English oak.  Red oak wands prefer witches and wizards who are quick-witted, adaptable, creative and who have unusually fast reaction times.  The master of this wand is often a good person to have on your side during a fight._

It could be inconsequential, but you never know what detail would be important.  After all, they’d found out who Nicolas Flamel was from a Chocolate Frog card back during first year.

Hermione thought back to the phoenix element.  She knew the cores from both Harry and Voldemort’s wand had come from the same bird—and she had seen firsthand how that had played out.  She also knew that phoenix-based wands were hardest to tame.  She’d seen that when Harry was just starting out with spellcasting.  It had taken him years to grow comfortable with his wand—but when he cast his first corporal Patronus, Hermione remembered the pang of jealousy well.

Seamus didn’t think too much about Hermione’s question—or the fact that she had zoned out temporarily.  He was too busy staring at his final transfiguration product. Unfortunately, the fact that Seamus’ pincushion was emerald green, but trimmed with lavender ribbon did not go unnoticed by any of the others.

Fortunately, no one had time to comment.  After expressing satisfaction that each student was capable of basic transfiguration exercises, McGonagall quickly dismissed them.  Perhaps more shockingly, she did not assign them any homework.

Saying goodbye to the others, Seamus made his excuses and—after a very convoluted path—wound up in the least-Seamus-friendly place possible.  The library.

~


	4. Muddled-Up Misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

A week later and Seamus and Hermione were no closer to finding answers than they had been on day one.  Once again, Seamus was sat in the library while Hermione finished one of her many elective courses for the day.  As he found his vision beginning to blur, he decided that he needed a break.  Besides, he’d been putting off a certain task long enough.  Setting aside his textbook, he pulled out some spare parchment and began to write.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I just want to apologize for leaving things the way I did._

He muttered to himself, uncertain as to what else he should say. He’d barely spoken to them since finding out about the curse—and he was sorry about the residual tension that remained.  Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize further.  He wasn’t the only one in the wrong.  He decided to wrap up on a positive note.

_Since the odds of me falling in love aren’t particularly good, I thought you’d like to know that a friend here has agreed to help me try to find another way around the curse.  Hopefully, next time you see me, I’ll have better news._

_-Seamus_

He carefully stored the note in his Transfiguration text.  He’d head up to the owlery after dinner.

Seamus turned back to his stack of texts that Madam Pince had helped him gather.  She had quirked an eyebrow at his barely-believable excuse of attempting some early preparation for his History of Magic N.E.W.T.  Yet, she’d humored him.

Seamus privately wondered if she’d been too shocked by the prospect of Seamus Finnigan—explosion extraordinaire—willingly studying to refuse to help him.  Considering that he remained the lone student in the library—and that she was watching him like a hawk—he supposed that was likely.

He must’ve been staring at the books longer than he thought when he was interrupted by a quiet cough above him.  “Hey Herm-” Seamus was halfway through speaking when he realized that he was face-to-face with none other than Draco Malfoy.

His blue eyes grew stormy.  “What do you want?”  Seamus finally asked.

 Draco’s expression was unchanged.  If Seamus didn’t know better, he’d have sworn that Draco looked _guilty_?  That didn’t seem right. 

“I’m sorry Finnigan.”

“Not any sorrier than I am.”  Seamus didn’t need to ask what Draco was sorry about. “Do you want to sit?” Seamus asked, finding it hard to be mad at the blonde-wizard.  Draco hadn’t had it easy during the war either.

Draco shrugged.  “Might as well.”  He pulled out a chair under Madam Pince’s watchful eye.  He looked over at Seamus’ massive stack of books.  “What’s with all the textbooks?  You trying to woo Granger?”  Draco asked after a while.

Seamus would’ve never guessed that Draco had a pleasant sense of humor, much less that he could make a joke. “Well,” he returned, “with Ron out-of-school, my odds _did_ get better, don’t you think?”  He winked.

Draco laughed.  “She’s too good for Ron anyway.”

On that point, Seamus had to agree.  Although he’d never say it out loud.  “I don’t know about that.”  Seamus said instead.

“Say what you will.”  Draco clearly didn’t believe him.  “Really, though.  Why the sudden interest in Irish mythology?  Didn’t your parents force-feed enough of it to you when you were growing up?”

“You know me.  Glutton for punishment and all that.”  Seamus said, returning to his books.

“Right.  You’re forgetting that in my former life, I was a jerk. I was never an idiot.”  Draco said simply.  “It’s the first day of school.  I get that you’re missing Lavender.  But, if you were foolish enough to try to bring her back—which I’m glad you’re not—you would be in the Restricted Section.  Instead, you look like you’re preparing the longest History of Magic essay Hogwarts has ever seen.  So, what’s really going on?”  Draco asked curiously.

Seamus was spared having to answer, fortunately. 

“There you are!”  This time, the interrupting voice belonged to Hermione.  Seamus looked up at her gratefully, while Draco rolled his eyes.

Hermione’s excitement at finding Seamus in the library faded to confusion as she looked from Seamus to Draco.  “What are you doing here?”  She asked Slytherin’s former Golden Boy.

Draco shrugged.  “Just catching up.  I should be going though.  Wouldn’t want to be interrupting anything.”  He winked at Seamus and shot him a pointed look.  _I will find out what you’re up to_ , it seemed to suggest.

“Granger.”  He nodded.  “Always a pleasure.”  He smiled at her as he brushed past.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco’s retreating figure.

“Think he likes you.”  Seamus said, not looking up from his book.

Hermione glowered.

~

An hour later, Hermione had finally dragged Seamus out of the library long enough for the two to visit the kitchens and still reach Gryffindor tower well ahead of curfew.   Seamus realized that with the hour growing progressively later, he should probably wait until tomorrow to officially apologize to his parents.

“I still can’t believe Harry lent you his invisibility cloak.”  Seamus stared at it jealously.  The two were now seated next to each other in the Gryffindor Common Room, with more than enough food to share.

Hermione shrugged.  “It’s only for the year.  He seemed to think I might need it for some reason.”

Seamus paled slightly as he swallowed the last of his dinner.  “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Hermione looked borderline insulted.  “No, of course not!

Seamus allowed himself to breathe.  “Good. Thanks.”

“Although,” she continued pragmatically, “the more eyes on the problem, the better.”  She looked at him expectantly. “If you won’t tell McGonagall right away, maybe Harry could help?”

Seamus paused.  “If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one always getting Harry and Ron out of sticky situations, not the other way ‘round?”

Hermione shrugged.  “Not _always_.  Besides, he might have a different perspective.”

Seamus noted that she did not offer to involve Ron.  He found himself strangely grateful for this.  Seamus had never understood why, but he and Ron had never quite seen eye to eye.  It could be that they were both too stubborn and temperamental for their own good.  Then again, unlike Ron, at least _Seamus_ had the good decency to apologize when he was wrong.

He looked around, noting that anyone who remained in the Common Room was otherwise engaged.  Dean and Neville were playing Exploding Snap in the opposite corner.  Parvati was seated by a window, carefully working through homework of some sort.  Younger students were mostly busily talking amongst themselves, farther away.

With no one in immediate earshot, Seamus decided he might as well figure out what they did know at this point.  With any luck, Hermione had had one of her breakthroughs.  Although, knowing her, it was unlikely since if she had, Seamus would’ve heard about it before now.

So,” he asked once he was sure there was no one else within earshot, “any luck tonight?  I can’t find anything except a sea of names, with no real context. I’m trying to be optimistic, but-”

“Actually, yeah.”  Hermione interrupted.  “That book I was reading earlier this week-”

“The Metrical Dindshenchas,” Seamus interrupted.

“Yes, that one. Let me finish.”  Hermione elbowed him.  When Seamus remained quiet, she continued.  

“It doesn’t say anything about the curse you mentioned—only that she threatened to curse them with famine if they failed to hold an autumn festival.  Doesn’t that seem strange?”

“Not really.”  Seamus’ lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him.  Despite his best efforts, he found himself dozing off by the fireplace.  “I doubt historians knew about it.”

“Yet they knew about other magical things.”  Hermione mused.

“Well, it could also be the curse didn’t strike until after the fours’ children had children.  Or, at least that’s what it said in my family texts.  Since not all of them did, the curse only ended up affecting a few of the lines—mine included.”  Seamus clarified.

Hermione clenched her teeth.  “And you didn’t think that was important to share?”

Seamus shrugged.  “I don’t see how it changes anything.”

Hermione about threw her books at him in frustration.  “I’m trying to help you!  We’re going to go around in circles unless you tell me _everything_ you know.”  She pulled out a roll of parchment and furiously began writing. “Anything else you’ve failed to mention?”  Her brown eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Hmm, well as you probably guessed, I'm descended from Lugh, the magician.”  Seamus tiredly wracked his brain for something else.  Finally, it latched onto something his mum had said when trying to justify having kept Seamus in the dark about his family tree.  “My mum seemed surprised that the curse would affect me after affecting Fergus.  Something about it usually only affecting one person from each line in a generation.”  He started.

Hermione stared at him incredulously.  “Seamus!  That’s it.  We’ve been going about this all wrong.”  Hermione’s anger faded in her frantic excitement.  She suddenly smacked herself.  “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” She muttered to herself before turning to Seamus.  “What’s the first thing we learnt in Muggle science class?”  She asked Seamus, remembering that he was a half-blood and—living in the Muggle world—had more than likely gone to a Muggle school prior to Hogwarts, even if he did prefer magical things.

“Erm. Don’t eat the glue?”  Seamus really didn’t see where Hermione was going with this.

“Correlation doesn’t imply causation!”  Hermione practically shouted.  She blushed when she realized that others in the Common Room had stopped their present activities to stare at her.

“Dunno what primary school _you_ went to.”  Seamus muttered.

Hermione ignored his comment and continued in a quieter tone.  “Don’t you see what this means?”  She whispered.  “There may be something more than your family curse at work here.  Go get your family texts.  We need to see if there are other instances of the curse affecting multiple family members from the same generation.”

Once Seamus had gone upstairs, Hermione resumed her thought process.  If there was something else that was causing Seamus’ present difficulties, maybe she could find a connection between his case and the experiences of those who had come before him.

A cold voice broke through her concentration.

“Getting awfully cozy there, aren’t you Granger?”  Parvati must have completed her homework.  Hermione hadn’t even heard her get up.  The raven-haired girl sank into Seamus’ abandoned seat and eyed Hermione coldly.

Hermione returned her gaze.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She replied evenly.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, cuddled up on the couch with Seamus.  It’s barely the first week back and you’ve already got your claws into him.   Sorry that Ron wasn’t enough for you, but really, Hermione.  Taking advantage of his grief for our mutual friend.  That’s just low.”  Parvati finished icily.

Hermione didn’t have a chance to retort as a very angry Irish voice cut through the stunned silence.

 “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?”  Seamus had come back down the stairs with the books Hermione had requested.  He was livid and his face was practically scarlet.  He set down the books with a heavy thud and shot Parvati the nastiest glare that Hermione thought she’d ever seen.   

At this, the Common Room grew silent.

“I’ll ask again.”  Seamus resumed in a quieter tone, when neither girl responded.

Parvati was indignant.  “Don’t be daft.  Don’t you see what she’s doing?”  She asked, incredulously.

“What?  Helping me study because I _asked_ her to?”  Seamus asked her, his tone laced with venom.

“You?  Willingly study?  That’s a laugh.”  Parvati scoffed.

“Parvati.”  Seamus began.  “You’re my friend, but I’m only going to say this once.  You need to back off from things you don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand?”  Parvati practically shrieked.  “ _I_ don’t understand?  Who better to understand?  Who sat with you while you cried your eyes out over Lavender?  It sure wasn’t _her_.  Yet, here you are, getting all comfy on the couch with _her_ like Lavender never existed.” 

She jerked her head at Hermione who had remained silent during the exchange.   “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s noticed.”  Parvati looked over at Dean and Neville who were doing their best to stay out of the crossfire.

“Maybe you should tell her.”  Hermione said softly.

“Yes, please do.  What could possibly inspire you to trample all over Lavender’s memory?”  Parvati asked sarcastically.  “I’m sure we’d all love to know.” 

Parvati had gone too far.  Seamus felt himself about ready to blow a gasket. 

“You want to know?  You really want to know?”  Seamus felt himself getting progressively louder.  “Fine.  I’ll tell you what’s got me—how did you put it? _Trampling all over Lavender’s memory_.  I’m cursed and I have less than a year to fix it.  Hermione—who you seem so intent on insulting—has selflessly dedicated her time to helping me. And, you know what?  If Lavender were here, she would have understood my going to Hermione.  You know why?  Because Hermione is the smartest witch our generation has ever seen.  You know it.  I know it. Everyone in this bloody school knows it.  If anyone can find a solution to any problem, it’s her.” 

At this, Parvati stared at the floor, but Seamus wasn’t finished.

So, you and everyone else who seems so intent to just make assumptions without bothering with the truth,” he eyed the rest of the Common Room occupants who were now all staring at him, “can SOD OFF!” Leaving his books where they were, Seamus turned and angrily stomped back up to the boys’ dormitory and closed the door behind him with a loud slam.

Dean and Neville eyed each other, but neither made a move to follow their friend.  Parvati continued to stare at the floor, as tears began streaming down her face.   

Taking the silence as her opportunity to leave, Hermione gathered her things and the books that Seamus had abandoned.  Carefully, she magically shrunk them all into her messenger bag. Without further comment, she disappeared through the portrait hole while the rest of the Gryffindor house remained in stunned silence.

~


	5. Late-Night Conversations with Lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5! Sorry if there are errors, I was a bit eager to post. As always, I own nothing. :-)

After the blow-out in the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione had been grateful for Harry’s invisibility cloak.  The Fat Lady had tutted at her, but offered no further reprieve as she watched her favorite student tug on the shimmery cloak and head down the hall.

Hermione knew that she was risking breaking curfew, but she needed to be alone.  Where better to go than the Astronomy Tower?  No one—should they decide to look for her—would check there.  Not because it wouldn’t occur to them, but because no one was quite ready to face that particular part of the castle yet.  If she were being honest with herself, Hermione wasn’t entirely sure that she was either.

As she approached the tower, a slight breeze made her shiver.  It was only September, but winter hung in the air.  Quietly, Hermione cast a quick warming charm.  Carefully, she pried open the stone door and stepped inside.  The tower was uninviting as ever.  It was dark and the illumination of the stars, mixed with candles mounted between each high window, cast deep shadows. 

Regardless, Hermione reasoned she had a better chance of studying here than back in the Common Room.  Perhaps she should have checked on Seamus. Then again, boys were stubborn.  Hermione reasoned, remembering her many fights with Ron and Harry—or more accurately, with Ron.  Besides, Seamus’ friends couldn’t hope to actually call themselves that if they didn’t check on him.  She cracked open the first of Seamus’ books and began to read.

“I kind of figured it would be you.”  A soft voice interjected quietly.

Hermione set the book aside and turned to where a transparent Lavender hovered.  “Lavender?”

“Most of the Gryffindor boys are too far in denial to touch their emotions with a ten-foot pole and you were always more logical than Parvati.”  Lavender said kindly, floating closer to where Hermione sat and adopting a sitting position.  “How is everyone?”  She asked.

By everyone, Hermione knew she meant Seamus.  “He’s been better, honestly.”

Lavender smiled sadly.  “He always was too stubborn for his own good.  I miss that.”  She eyed Hermione with a slight grin.  “Between Ron and Seamus, you and I really know how to choose them.”

Hermione frowned at her book.  “Ron and I aren’t really a thing anymore.”  

Lavender looked uncomfortable.  “Oh. I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.”  She said finally. 

Hermione looked at her, perplexed, wondering what on earth Lavender Brown had to be sorry about.  Moreover, how could Hermione have reasonably expected Lavender to have known?

“You always accused me of being a hopeless romantic.”  Lavender shrugged, answering Hermione’s unasked questions.  “You weren’t wrong.  Besides, despite my initial jealously, you and Ron made a _much_ better couple than he and I ever did.”

“Seamus misses you.”  Hermione said finally, not really wanting to talk about Ron.  Apart from disagreeing with her decisions, Ron had also decided that he liked blondes better.  Specifically, he decided that he liked Luna Lovegood. 

Hermione didn’t hold it against Luna, to be certain, but she was a little put out when Ron just unceremoniously mentioned that the two of them were dating—especially seeing, as unbeknownst to Luna, he’d forgotten to break up with Hermione first.

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?”  Lavender asked sadly.  Upon seeing Hermione’s raised eyebrow, she clarified.  “With Seamus, I mean.”

“Yes, but how did you know?”  Hermione asked.

“Come now, you were always top of the class, you tell me.”  Lavender grinned wryly.

Hermione paused.  “You’re not here because you want to be.  You’re here because something—or perhaps, more accurately, someone—is keeping you here.”

Lavender nodded.  “I can sense that Seamus is feeling sad and out of sorts, but it’s not just missing me that’s doing it.  Trouble is, he has to seek me out.  Since I didn’t actively choose to be a ghost, I can’t leave where the place I died.” 

She looked over Hermione’s shoulder.  “Finnigan Family?”  She read questioningly.

“I promised Seamus I wouldn’t tell anyone, but somehow, I don’t think he had you in mind when he was swearing me to secrecy.”  Hermione started.

Lavender snorted.  “Probably not.” 

“Long story short, Seamus has a family curse that involves him turning into a leprechaun on his 19th birthday if we don’t figure out a solution.  The specific way to break the curse is for him to fall in love.  However, seeing as well…”  Hermione paused.

“I’m dead.”  Lavender finished matter-of-factly.

“So, love really isn’t an option.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s still heartbroken over you.”  Hermione agreed awkwardly. “He enlisted me to help him try to find an alternative solution.”

Lavender nodded.  “That makes sense.  Seamus may be a bit of a dolt at times, but at least he’s gotten around insisting that he can do everything on his own.  I really hope you can help him.”  She said seriously.  Then, she paused, as if contemplating something.  “Does Parvati know?”  She asked.

“Er…”  Hermione trailed off uncomfortably.

“When Seamus said ‘don’t tell anyone,’ he really meant it.”  Lavender noted. 

“Until recently, anyway.”  Hermione corrected, growing increasingly uncomfortable. 

Lavender raised her eyebrows. 

“He may have lost his temper earlier and shouted at the entirety of Gryffindor House.”

Lavender smiled knowingly.  “Parvati said something stupid about you two spending so much time together, didn’t she?”

Hermione opened her mouth and then quickly shut it.  She felt mildly like a goldfish.  “How did you-?”

Lavender scoffed.  “Please.  Parvati’s been my best friend since first year.  She and I have always been fairly protective of one another.  She means well, but neither one of us were particularly good about validating the facts before jumping to conclusions.  And Seamus?  Well, he’s always been a bit of a hothead—particularly when it comes to his friends—and if he trusts you enough to enlist your help, he definitely considers you a friend.”  Lavender clarified.

Hermione smiled at the blonde girl.  “I may have misjudged you when we were in school.  I’m sorry for that.  I wish we had been better friends.”

Lavender returned her smile.  “Me too.  Although, as for misjudging, it probably goes both ways.  I’m sure I wasn’t the kindest to you fourth and fifth years.”

Hermione scoffed.  “Ron doesn’t always bring out the best in people.”  She remembered his horribly offensive way of asking her to the Yule Ball.  _Hermione, you’re a girl_ , the insensitive git had started.  Really, that should have been Hermione’s first clue.

Lavender shrugged.  “He always meant well though.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree there.”  Hermione muttered.

“You may change your mind in time.  Death has a funny way of altering your perspective on life.”  Lavender said.  “But enough about Ron.  Tell me more about what’s happening with Seamus.”

Hermione filled Lavender in, but noted that they really hadn’t come up with much—and what little progress they _had_ made had been interrupted earlier.

Lavender immediately offered to help.  Noting that she couldn’t turn the pages of her own accord, Lavender asked if Hermione would mind magically copying a few of the pages that she thought might be important and laying them out.  Hermione had agreed and now, both girls were diligently digging into Seamus’ family history, trying to find another instance of multiple members of the same generation experiencing the same curse. 

Hermione had explained that the curse appearing to affect one person per generation could be coincidence—maybe others in his family were already in love when the curse struck.  Or, it could mean something different was happening to Seamus.  Either way, she and Lavender had work to do.

They must’ve been there for hours before Hermione heard footsteps fast approaching.  Hastily, she threw her invisibility cloak over herself and the books.  Lavender faded from view.  Both watched unseen as the door slowly opened.  

Tentatively, Seamus peeked into the room.  Sighing with relief when he found it seemingly unoccupied, he shut the door behind him.  Carefully, he strode across the room—fortunately missing Hermione in the process—and proceeded to stare blankly out the window.

“Lavender, what am I supposed to do?”  He asked quietly.  He turned away from the window and sunk to the floor, burying his heads in his hands as he did.  “I’ve gone and made a right mess of things and it’s only the first week back.  Hermione was just trying to help and Parvati had to go and be herself.  No offense.  I like Parvati most days, but she had to go and insinuate that Hermione was somehow an awful person.  Hermione probably hates my guts right now—and who could blame her?  I pretty much left her to the wrath of your best friend because I couldn’t keep my temper in check.  Oh and the whole, ‘I’m going to be noble and not tell anyone that I’m cursed?’ Yeah that went up in smoke about the same time as my temper.”  Seamus sighed heavily.  “Dean and Neville aren’t speaking to me.  Now, I’m back to square one, with the added bonus that I’ve managed to alienate all my friends in one fell swoop.”

Lavender had heard enough.  “Seamus Finnigan.”  She crossed her arms and stared at him.

Seamus looked up, not even bothering to hide his shock.  “Lavender?”  He started, confusedly. He rubbed his bleary eyes, to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be…” He trailed off.

“For a smart guy, you can be awfully stupid sometimes.”  Lavender smiled at him encouragingly.  “Regardless, I doubt your friends hate you.”

Seamus nodded miserably, ignoring that she hadn’t directly answered his question.  “Dean and Neville won’t speak to me.”

Lavender raised an eyebrow.  “After you had just shouted at them?”  Lavender asked curiously. “That’s _very_ surprising.” She added sarcastically.  “Because you apologized to Harry Potter immediately after he shouted at you and you realized that you were wrong to believe the Daily Prophet’s lies two years ago?”

Seamus shrugged.  “That was different.”

“Was it?”  Lavender asked.  “The three of you are friends and you’re each stubborn in your own way.  If anything, Neville and Dean are probably feeling slightly ashamed of themselves, but also hurt that you wouldn’t include them in whatever you’re going through—Neville especially.  You know he has a big heart.” Lavender eyed him.  “Did you actually try to talk to them?  Or,” she raised her eyebrow, “did you go straight to bed and sulk like you usually do when you feel like you’ve been wronged?”

“That’s not fair.”  Seamus started.

Lavender shook her head.  “No.  What’s not fair is you automatically assuming what they’re feeling without actually talking to them.  As for Hermione, I can assure you that she’s still dedicated to helping you—and doesn’t hold you accountable for Parvati’s actions.”  She smiled.  “If anything, I think she appreciated that you defended her—particularly when I explained that it meant that you thought of her as a friend.”

It was Seamus’ turn to raise an eyebrow.  “You talked to her?”

“She’s been up here for the past however many hours trying to figure out whether your family curse is responsible for your current plight—or whether it’s something else entirely.  Someone who hated you would just leave you to your fate.  Right, Hermione?”  Lavender turned to where Hermione sat hidden by the invisibility cloak.

Hermione tugged the cloak off, feeling a bit like she was intruding on something that belonged to Seamus and Lavender.  Feeling blood rushing to her cheeks, she simply nodded.  She quickly shrunk the books to fit into her messenger bag.  “I should go.”  She said quickly, before rushing out of the room.

Lavender turned back to Seamus.  “She cares about you.  All of your friends do.  So, stop being stupid and let them help you.  _All_ of them.” 

Seamus stared at her.  “I miss you.”  He started, uncertainly.

“I’m right here.”  Lavender eyed him.

“That’s not what I meant.”  Seamus started.

“I know what you meant, Seamus and for what it’s worth, I miss you too.”  Lavender said evenly.  “But, you can’t change the past.  I’m here for a purpose and when that purpose is served, I’ll move on like I’m supposed to.  I’m not like Sir Nick or any of the other ghosts at Hogwarts.  I won’t be a permanent fixture here.”

“How long do I have with you?”  Seamus asked.

“As long as it takes for you to move on from me.”  Lavender looked at him meaningfully.

“So, the rest of my life then?”  Seamus was only half-joking.

Lavender rolled her eyes.  “Seamus, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you—but you can’t spend the rest of your life hung up on me.  We dated for one year. Holding onto that isn't healthy.  Besides,” she eyed him carefully, “we both know that you have more important things to worry about right now.”

Seamus knew she was right, but he didn’t like it.

“Go to bed, Seamus.”  Lavender advised.  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Goodnight, Lavender.”  He said, his face full of regret.

When he was finally in bed, Seamus found that for the first time since Lavender had died, he slept peacefully.

~


	6. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 6. I may not be able to post daily during the week (graduate school and all). However, I still plan to update regularly!
> 
> I own nothing! :-)

It was the morning of Halloween and Hermione was borderline tearing her hair out.  For his part, Seamus had seemed in brighter spirits.  After being taken to task by Lavender, he’d promptly apologized to Dean, Neville and even Parvati.  They, of course, had immediately agreed to help him. 

After a coordinated effort amongst the five oldest Gryffindor students and one very dedicated former Gryffindor, it seemed like Mrs. Finnigan had been right.  Based on precedent, there was no reason to suspect that Seamus would also be subject to the curse. There was no instance of another member of the same line, from the same generation being affected once the curse manifested itself.  Moreover, if a generation had no males, the curse was passed over entirely for that generation—and, surprisingly, the next generation did not pay an additional price.  Hermione had checked and double-checked this fact, much to her own consternation.

The more weeks passed, the harder it was becoming to balance research with coursework.  Worse, Neville, Dean and Parvati had each been procrastinating on their Herbology essays.  So, they’d gone back to the Common Room to compare notes.  Hermione, unsurprisingly, had done hers the week before—and somehow, she’d managed to convince Seamus to do the same.  So, the two of them had spent the morning, searching through the library for any additional material that might help them, to no avail.

_What we really need to do is talk to Fergus’ parents._   Hermione thought to herself.  Granted, she imagined that would be difficult.  The thing was, they would know firsthand what the signs looked like.  They would be able to answer definitively whether or not Seamus’ loss of height and shrinking shoe size was the curse—or something else.  None of Seamus’ books had been that specific as far as what the curse actually looked like.  They had spent more time discussing that _it_ was happening and documenting whether the afflicted individual had overcome the curse or not. Hermione needed more information.  If it was the curse, then something else was triggering it.  If it wasn’t, well then, they had an entirely new set of questions to answer—especially as Seamus was continuing to lose another half inch of height each month.

Hermione had to temporarily put her research aside for the day.  She still had plenty of Potions work to catch up with and the Charms essay due the following week wasn’t going to write itself.  As she sat alone in the library, Hermione was starting to realize how strange it was.  Sure, she used to do it all the time before the war.  Yet, lately, she’d gotten used to Seamus’ company. 

With no assignments due in the immediate future—and needing a break from research—Seamus had excused himself to go talk to Lavender in the Astronomy Tower.  He had promised to owl his family, to see if Fergus’ parents might be willing to talk to them.  He didn’t seem sure that they would, but he supposed he didn’t really have anything to lose.  He hoped that the importance of preventing another family member from experiencing the same fate would be enough to outweigh the difficulty of the subject matter. 

As Seamus left, Hermione felt something strange in the pit of her stomach.  It wasn’t something she’d felt in a long time.  Surely, she wasn’t _jealous._   Was she?

“You look like you could use a break too.”  A strangely familiar voice interjected.

Hermione looked up.  “Draco?”  She asked.

He pulled up a chair next to her.  “I heard about Seamus’ little problem.”  He said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.  “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to – oh.”  Draco realized.  “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make a joke.” He looked slightly abashed.  “How’s the research going?”

Hermione felt oddly defensive.  Sure, Draco had been nicer since classes had begun, but that still didn’t mean she trusted him.  She sighed heavily.

“That well, huh.”  Draco nodded appreciatively.  “Maybe I could help?”  He offered.

Hermione wasn’t sure that she’d heard correctly.  “You?  Help?”  She repeated incredulously.

Draco shrugged.  “Well, it _is_ a curse.”  He coughed uncomfortably.  “My family does have quite a history with those.”

Hermione had to admit he had a point.

“Besides,” Draco continued.  “I can all but guarantee you that you’re not going to find a whole lot of information on truly old or dark curses here.  Hogwarts doesn’t exactly encourage study of the Dark Arts.  The Black and Malfoy libraries are a different story.”  He paused, “And, if the person who cast it was truly a dark sorceress, well then.  One of them might have exactly what you’re looking for.”

Hermione looked at him, perplexed.  “Why are you being so nice all of the sudden?”

“Why not?”  Draco asked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Fine, fine.”  Draco sighed.  “You remember what McGonagall said, this year being one of new beginnings and all.”  He started.  “Well, as you might have _heard_ ,”  he stressed, “the Malfoy reputation didn’t exactly make it through the war unscathed.  The only reason we _aren’t_ in Azkaban is because of a last-minute loyalty change and the fact that my mum lied to Voldemort about Harry being dead.  That’s hardly enough to inspire goodwill among the light side—and more than enough to mark as us traitors to the dark.  Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Hogwarts isn’t exactly swarming with Slytherins these days.”

Hermione had noticed.  Even the numbers of younger students had grown scarce.

“The few former Death Eaters who haven’t been thrown in Azkaban—and even some who have—have instructed that their children be enrolled in Durmstrang.  The ones who are here are children of parents who either fought for the light or stayed out of the war entirely.”  Draco clarified. “Theo’s parents managed to stay out of the war, which is why he’s here.  Everyone else from our year is either dead, in Azkaban, or simply decided that showing up for a repeat year is a waste of time.”

Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling bad for snapping at Draco. “How are you holding up?”  She asked him curiously.

Draco looked at her, stunned. “What?  No.  We are not having a heart-to-heart session right now.  I only came to offer my help and justify that I’m not doing it for nefarious reasons, as you seemed so intent on believing.”  Draco explained.

Hermione shrugged.  “Have it your way.”  She smiled at him.  “Although, just so you know, you and Theodore are always welcome to sit with us.”

“Just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of new project.  I don’t need fixing.” Draco said a little too quickly.  Thinking better of his sudden outburst, he found himself fumbling for words.  “But, er thanks Granger.”  He smiled hesitantly.  “Might take you up on that sometime.” 

He got up and walked away.  “By the way, I’m heading home this weekend.  I’ll see what I can dig up that matches Seamus’ symptoms.”  Draco called behind him.

~

While Draco and Hermione were having their not-heart-to-heart, Seamus was seated on the floor of the Astronomy Tower.  Lavender drifted lazily above him.  “You knew this time would come.”   Lavender said sadly.

“No.”  Seamus said, disbelieving. 

“You have to consider all the possibilities.”  Lavender advised him.  “Let’s suppose that despite your best efforts, you can’t find an alternative solution to your curse.”  She began.  “Falling in love may be your only option.”

“But, I’m already in love.”  Seamus countered.

“ _With someone who can love you back_.”  Lavender stressed.

Seamus muttered something unintelligible.  

“Oh, stop it.”  Lavender rolled her eyes.  “You know as well as I do that I’m only holding you back.  If our roles were reversed, you’d want me to be happy, right?”

“Well, obviously, but-” Seamus started.

“No buts.   The longer I’m here, the harder it will be for you to fall in love with someone else.  Although, whether you realize it or not, you’re already well on your way.”  Lavender continued. “Regardless of whether you’re willing to admit it, you’re ready to move on and so, it’s time for me to go.”

Seamus nodded bitterly.  He was unhappy about it, but he also knew that he’d been being selfish. He’d been so distracted by his problems that he’d failed to acknowledge the obvious.  Lavender didn’t belong here and she deserved the chance to move on and find peace.

Lavender smiled to herself.  A year ago, she would’ve been livid about her fate and about losing Seamus.  Now, she realized that she wasn’t at all upset.  Then again, she reasoned, it would take a fair amount of time for Seamus to realize his feelings—and then at least double that for him to admit them out loud.  Lavender hoped there was still enough time for her obstinate Irishman to realize what was in front of him.

She looked at Seamus one last time, smiling at him.  “It’s going to be okay.  She stepped closer to him as he stood to meet her scrutinizing gaze.

As much as he wanted to hug her, he knew that it was an impossibility.  So, instead, he watched as his former girlfriend disappeared for the last time.  “I’ll miss you, y’know?” He asked.

“I know, but don’t forget.  First loves don’t mean your last.”  She winked as she faded from view.

He didn’t know how long he stood in the Astronomy Tower alone, contemplating her words.

“Seamus?”  Hermione asked questioningly from the doorway.

“She’s gone.”  Seamus turned to face her.

Hermione sighed heavily.  “I’m sorry.”  Attempting to be comforting she stepped closer.  “They’re getting ready to start the feast tonight.  Do you want to come down with me?”  She asked carefully.

“No. I’m not really hungry.”  Seamus said finally.  “I think I’d rather be alone right now, if that’s okay.”

Hermione nodded, understandingly.  “I’ll save you some desserts, in case you change your mind.”

~

That night, while Seamus processed his thoughts, Hermione decided that she ought to make good on her promise to write to her friends.  Harry had been true to his word and had sent her constant updates about his progress as an Auror.  Ron had sent her the occasional letter, but things were still understandably awkward between them.

Unsurprisingly, both Harry and Ron had made it through the training program.  However, Harry’s letters had grown increasingly concerned when he hadn’t received more than the occasional owl from Hermione.  _Was everything okay?_   His last letter had wondered.  Seeing as everyone else knew, Hermione figured it was high time that she filled Harry in about Seamus.  After reading Harry’s latest update, she hastily penned a return letter, explaining Seamus’ plight and asking him to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron this Saturday. 

Normally, Hogsmeade trips were scheduled weeks in advance.  However, as part of the incentive for older students to return after the battle, Headmistress McGonagall now allowed all 6th and 7th year students to travel to Hogsmeade on any weekend that they so desired—provided they signed in and out.  Hermione only hoped she could convince Seamus to come with her.  Who knew, maybe he’d hear back from his family by then too.  Hermione could only hope.

~

“Penny for your thoughts?”  Parvati asked shyly.  With everyone returned from the banquet portion of the Halloween festivities—and none of the older students particularly feeling like dancing—four of the five returning Gryffindors were congregated in the Common Room.  Neville was studying, while Dean attempted to wheedle a game of Exploding Snap out of him.  Parvati was taking full advantage of the makeshift snack set-up.

When Hermione had begun gathering treats from the banquet for Seamus, the others had taken it upon themselves to help.  They had placed as much food as they could carry on one of the Common Room tables, just in case certain male wizards changed their mind.  Despite their best efforts to save desserts for Seamus—who had yet to make a reappearance—the snacks were slowly disappearing.

Hermione looked up. “Sorry?”  She asked.

“You seemed like you were zoning out.”  Parvati tried again.  When Hermione stared at her, she continued.  “Besides, I never properly apologized for shouting at you.”

Hermione shook her head.  “You don’t need to.  I understand. You were just protecting your friends.”

Parvati shrugged her off.  “Maybe, but it wasn’t fair of me to assume.  So, I’m sorry.  Although,” she eyed Hermione devilishly,  “I suppose Lavender was right.  You two wouldn’t be that bad of a match.”  She mused as she passed Hermione a pumpkin tart.  “Merlin knows you’re both certainly stubborn enough to make it work if you ever decided to.” Parvati winked.

Hermione felt her face heat up, but ignored it.  “I’m just trying to help him.”  Hermione said softly.

“We all are.”  Parvati agreed.  “By the way, Hermione." She looked at her fellow witch carefully. "What color are Seamus’ eyes?”  She asked calmly as she stood up to head to bed.

“Blue.”  Hermione said without thinking.

“Funny.”  Parvati paused.  “I never noticed.”

~


	7. Old Friends and New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, between the prospect of severe weather this evening and a general unwillingness to work on homework, I decided to update this story instead. :-)
> 
> I own nothing (except the errors, of course)!

The rest of the week passed without incident.  Seamus had mostly kept to himself and Hermione had let him be for the most part.  He seemed to be dealing with things well, all things considered.  The dark circles around his eyes had faded and—although he didn’t spend a lot of time with the other Gryffindors—he wasn’t holed up in his room entirely either.   

By the time Friday arrived, Seamus announced that he had gotten a letter from his family.  His aunt and uncle were willing to meet in Hogsmeade at 2pm on Saturday afternoon.  They’d also prefer to meet with Seamus alone, if it was all the same to him.  Seamus had been rather apologetic when explaining that last fact to the rest of the Gryffindors. 

Hermione, however, had taken it in stride.  She figured the discussion would be painful enough without her being there.  _Harry and I will be at the Leaky Cauldron_.  _Just come by when you’re finished_ , she had told him.   Apparently, Seamus had not expected her to be so understanding.  Hermione had noted his obvious relief she had reassured him that she was more than happy not to attend. 

_Did she really come across as that emotionally insensitive?_ Hermione wondered. She hoped not.  Hermione knew that she tended to heavy rely on logic in her thought processes—especially when it came to helping her friends—but that didn’t mean that she lacked emotional depth.  Having been on the receiving end of inconsiderate actions one too many times, Hermione really did try her best to be sympathetic—even if she wasn’t quite sure what to do or say.

Like Hermione, others were equally understanding.  Albeit, they were also slightly relieved to be temporarily off the hook.  Before Seamus had received an owl confirming the meeting, Professor Sprout had managed to rope Neville into agreeing to help her repot Mandrakes on Saturday.  When he’d told the others, both Dean and Seamus had laughed.  _Make sure you’re not neglecting your earmuffs this time around,_ Seamus had said.  _We won’t be around to carry your unconscious self to the infirmary this time around._   Dean had added.

Unbeknownst to Seamus and Neville, Dean had a date on Saturday—one that he found himself very much looking forward to.  Parvati and Dean had been growing steadily closer throughout the year—and Parvati had been hoping to drag Dean to Madam Puddifoot’s on Saturday.  In what was undoubtedly more telling, Dean had actually agreed to go.

~

On Saturday morning, Hermione found Seamus in the Common Room much earlier than expected.  Apparently, he’d been unable to sleep the night previous.  Figuring that they’d might as well get their days started, Hermione had rushed upstairs to grab her things.  Then, she had practically dragged Seamus down the stairs to grab an early breakfast.  Seamus rubbed his bleary eyes, only half-processing what the excitable witch before him was saying. 

 “… You know, we have that Charms exam next week.  Maybe we can get a few hours of studying in before you meet with your family.”  Hermione was looking at Seamus expectantly.

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”  Seamus muttered groggily.  Looking around, he affirmed his suspicions that they were presently the only ones in the Great Hall.  “You do know the point of Saturday mornings is to _not_ do work, right?  What time is it anyway?”  He hadn’t had a chance to look at the clock before Hermione had happily ushered him down the stairs with promises of sweet rolls and coffee.  If he had known he was going to get roped into a surprise study session as well, he would’ve pretended to have been asleep on the couch when she came downstairs the first time.

“It’ll take your mind off of this afternoon.”  Hermione argued. 

“No, it won’t.”  Seamus stuffed a cinnamon roll into his mouth. 

“It might.”  Hermione wheedled. “Besides, you’re going to have to study at some point.  Why not now?”  She asked.

She did have a point, Seamus acknowledged—but she didn’t need to know that.  “Do you ever _not_ study?”  He asked instead.

Hermione looked affronted.  “Of course I do.  I go to the Quidditch matches, don’t I?”

Seamus supposed she did.  “Other than Quidditch.”  He eyed her. 

“Well, I read for fun.”  Hermione started, but stopped when she noticed Seamus’ pained expression.

“What else?”  Seamus asked impatiently.

Hermione wracked her brain desperately.  Surely that wasn’t all she did—was it?  “I went to a Weird Sisters concert this summer.”  She said finally.

Seamus about smacked himself in the head.  _Merlin._ If Hermione was going to help him break this stupid curse of his, the least he could do was ensure that she had a little fun along the way. 

“How about a compromise?”  Seamus suggested.  “You agree to do something I want to do after breakfast and I agree to spend two hours in the library studying Charms with you afterwards.”

Hermione was skeptical.  “What do you want to do?”  She asked.

“Nope.”  Seamus said. “Agree first and then I’ll tell you.”

“Why would I do that?”  Hermione eyed him incredulously.

Seamus shrugged.  “Do you want to study later or not?”

“I _could_ study on my own.”  Hermione reasoned.

“You could.”  Seamus agreed.  “But, that wouldn’t be as much fun, would it?”  He asked.  “Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?” He winked.

Hermione groaned.  She was regretting this already.  “Fine.”  She muttered.  “I agree.”

“Wonderful.”  Seamus smiled.

~

“I hate you Seamus Finnigan!”  Hermione shouted.  The two were whizzing around, high above the Hogwarts grounds on Seamus’ broomstick.  

The one time she had bothered to look down she had instantly regretted it.  The giant squid—which was lazily sunning itself on the west bank of the lake—looked like a mere blip against the rest of the school grounds.  Looking further, the leaf-less trees of the Forbidden Forest vaguely resembled matchsticks.  Her grip tightened against Seamus’ waist as she bit back a stream of curse words.

She should have known when Seamus refused to provide specific terms that his activity would involve flying.  Hermione _hated_ flying and Seamus—like everyone else in Gryffindor—knew it _._

“Would you relax?”  Seamus called over his shoulder. “We’re just flying.  It’s not like I’m going to attempt a Wronski Feint or something.” 

“Relax?” Hermione could barely get the word out of her mouth.  “I am who-knows-how-high above the ground and you want me to relax?”  She practically screeched.

“Yes.”  Seamus said evenly.  “And, if you wouldn’t mind relaxing your grip just a bit…I do fancy being able to breathe.”  He advised.

At this, Hermione bit her lip, feeling a bit embarrassed.  She did as he asked.  “I cannot believe you got me to agree to this.”  She muttered.

Seamus ignored her last comment, too busy reveling in the fact that he could finally breathe properly.  He coughed. “Much better.  Thank you.  Now, as I was saying, I’ve always found that flying is relaxing—once you get over the whole heights thing.”

“I’ll have you know that ‘the whole heights thing’ is a rather big thing.”  Hermione returned stiffly, instantly back to being put out.

Seamus sighed.  “Hermione.”

“What?”  The brunette witch huffed irritably from behind him.

“Look around you.” 

He couldn’t be serious.  She was still feeling a bit wonky from having looked down the first time. No, she decided.  She was absolutely not going to look anywhere.  He was lucky her eyes were even open at all. 

Seamus appeared to have read her mind.  “I didn’t say down, lass.  Just around.”  He gestured to cloudless sky before them.

Hermione realized that they had stopped moving and were now floating lazily above the Quidditch pitch.  The sun was just peeking over the horizon.  Its rays painted the sky in a medley of oranges and reds.  She sighed, slightly awestruck as she noted the contrast between illuminated sky and the fading green topography below.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”  Seamus asked.

Hermione had to admit that it was.

“You go to the library when you want to relax or get away from people, right?”  Seamus asked.

“Sometimes.”  Hermione admitted.

“Well, I prefer flying. It’s very peaceful.  Plus, there are no overly judgmental librarians constantly looking over your shoulder.”  He paused. “I mean, can you imagine Madam Pince on a broomstick?”

Hermione snorted.  She most certainly could not.  The more she looked around, the more relaxed she became.  Granted, she still preferred having both feet on the ground—but maybe, just maybe—flying wasn’t _so_ bad.

“Speaking of Madam Pince, I suppose it’s about time I fulfilled my end of our bargain.”  Seamus said.  “Unless, of course, you’d rather stay up here a bit longer.”  He added hopefully.

Despite her initial reservations, Hermione decided that maybe a little longer wouldn’t hurt.  It wasn’t as though her Charms textbooks were going anywhere.

~

By the time 1:30 rolled around, Hermione and Seamus had managed to study for well over the two hours initially promised.  Although he felt better about his upcoming exam, Seamus remained on edge about meeting with his aunt and uncle.

“It’ll be _fine_.” Hermione reassured him for what felt like the millionth time.

“Easy for you to say.”  Seamus gritted his teeth as the two walked to Hogsmeade together.  “You’re not going.”

 “Ignoring the fact that I would have gone with you if I had been invited, it’s probably better that I don’t.  Try to see it from their perspective.  Even though it’s a hard conversation, it would be that much more difficult to bring it up in front of people they don’t know.   Trust me, it’s easier for everyone this way.” Hermione reasoned.

Seamus was getting really tired of Hermione being right all the time.  “Alright, well, I’ll let you know what I find out. No promises that I’ll be sober afterwards.”  He waved a hand dismissively as he kept straight, while Hermione veered off toward the Leaky Cauldron.  

As she waved goodbye to Seamus, Hermione had a feeling that Harry would have beaten her to the pub.  Sure enough, when Hermione finally arrived, she found Harry seated at one of the outer booths.  Happily, he’d had presence of mind to order her a butterbeer.  Unhappily, Ron was with him, seated on the inside.

Ron looked oddly chipper as he looked around.  “Where’s Seamus?”  He wondered aloud.

“He’s meeting with his family.”  Hermione said.

“Oh. I thought-” Harry elbowed Ron hard before he could express whatever it was he thought.

Hermione decided she didn’t want to know.   

“Anyway,” Harry continued.  “I’m not sure how helpful either of us will be, but we did at least want to pop in and see how you all were doing.”

Hermione nodded.  “I figured your schedules were keeping you both pretty busy.”

Harry made a face.  “I don’t think Shacklebot is familiar with the concept of vacation days.”  He stressed.  “As it is, we only have a few hours off _and it’s Saturday_.”

Ron looked between Harry and Hermione.  “On the upside, it’s just paperwork today.  Yesterday, we had to deal with who we _thought_ was a dangerous wizard.  It was actually just a very confused Muggle who had been given too much laughing gas during a routine wisdom tooth removal surgery.”  He looked at Hermione.  “Honestly, I don’t understand Muggle methods sometimes.”

Hermione shrugged, grateful that her parents were dentists, not orthodontic surgeons.  Sure, they’d had to fill out many cavities before they’d retired to Australia a year previously—but they didn’t have to knock out their patients to do it.

Harry shook his head, still recalling the Muggle patient.  “He immediately demanded that we take him to the nearest zoo and buy him 3D glasses so he could determine whether zebras were black with white stripes or white with black stripes.”

Hermione laughed.  “I don’t envy you.  Either of you.”  She looked at Ron, trying to give him her happiest smile.  It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“So how’s Seamus holding up?  Harry asked.

“About as well as you might expect.”  Hermione returned. 

Harry frowned.  “I wish we could do more, but I’m glad he has you to help him.”  He said genuinely.

At this, Ron looked as though he’d swallowed a slug.  “I thought everyone was helping him?”  He tried to clarify.

Hermione glanced between her friends.  “Well, obviously.” She looked at Ron.  “I’m just the only one here.  If Neville or any of the others had been with me, Harry would have thanked them same as me.  Right, Harry?”  She asked.

Harry nodded as he took a sip of his butterbeer.  He seemed equally confused by the exchange. “You okay, Ron?”  He asked, noticing Ron’s perplexed expression.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mate.  Really shouldn’t have had the extra omelette this morning though.

Ron _was_ looking slightly green, Hermione conceded.

 “So, how are classes going?”  Ron asked finally when no one spoke further.

“They’re going well, thanks.”  Hermione answered politely.  “I’m really glad that I decided to come back this year.  Apart from the current bit of nastiness we’re trying to resolve, it’s been good to see everyone and to know that Hogwarts is slowly recovering.  I wish you had come back as well, but I understand why you didn’t.  I’m so happy that you’ve passed Auror training—even if it generates more than a few headaches.”  She smiled at both of them.

Unfortunately, Ron mistook her meaning and decided that Hermione’s comments were as good of an invitation as he was going to get.  “I’ve missed you, Hermione.”  He started. 

At this, Harry quickly stepped on his foot, attempting to halt what was sure to be the beginning of a very awkward conversation.  Ron, however, was not to be deterred. “I’m sorry how we ended things before.”  He continued.

Hermione glanced at Harry who was desperately trying to derail their mutual friend from his present mission.  When Ron failed to notice Harry’s frantic gestures to cease and desist, Harry slumped back in his seat.  Giving up, he mouthed ‘sorry’ to Hermione who raised an eyebrow.

Hermione sighed heavily.  “This is not the time, Ron.”  She reminded him gently. 

At the same time, Ron spoke.  “I was thinking that we could maybe try again?”  He asked hopefully.

Hermione nearly put her face in her hands.  As she gathered what remained of her wits, she eyed Ron.   “Did you?”  She asked slowly.

Harry noted that she sounded vaguely like a female version of a certain former Potions Master as she spoke.  He also decided that now was a good time to replenish their drinks.

“Well yes.  I realize that I was wrong.  I miss what we had.  Luna is sweet, but she’s not you.”

Hermione took a long swig of butterbeer. “I. I. I.”  She repeated slowly.  “Ron, did you ever stop to consider what I might want?  Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t appreciate that you _forgot_ to break up with me before pursuing Luna?  Or, that maybe Harry told me that Luna dumped you once she realized how you’d treated me? Or, that maybe just maybe I don’t appreciate being relegated to a last resort!”  Hermione was growing progressively more upset as she ranted.

“You’re not a last resort, Hermione!  You’ve never been a last resort.  I was just daft.  You always said I had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but this whole era of new beginnings…”  Ron trailed off pleadingly.  “Well, I hoped that maybe that could apply to us too.”

Privately, Hermione wished that Harry would hurry up with the drinks already.  She realized now that, like Seamus, she was probably going to need more than butterbeer to get through today.

“I don’t think so, Ron.” Hermione said quietly.

Ron stared at her blankly, “why not?”  He asked.

Hermione sighed before eying him tiredly.  “In the course of all your arguments, did it ever occur to you that I might have moved on?”  She stared at Ron as she spoke.  _No, he hadn’t_ , Hermione realized sadly as shock etched itself across Ron’s face. 

Ron didn’t have time to answer before a new voice interjected.  “Right you are love.”  Seamus said as he plopped into the booth next to Hermione, wrapping an arm haphazardly around her as he did so. 

If Ron didn’t look sick before, he did now.

Hermione scooted over to make room, noting that Seamus reeked of firewhiskey as she did so.  She found herself enjoying his sudden warmth.  She also found herself still enjoying the paled and horrified expression that crept across Ron’s face as he watched the display unfold.  _Serves him right_ , Hermione thought smugly.

“Seamus!”  She turned to the Irishman who was currently running his fingers up her arm distractedly. At her exclamation, he stopped to look up at her with a cheeky grin.  “Are you drunk?!”  When Seamus had said something about not promising sobriety, Hermione had chalked it up to him being dramatic.  She hadn’t thought that he would’ve actually _meant it._

“Sorry, Mum.”  Seamus smirked, failing to remove his arm.  “I might’ve stopped for a pint or two.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Did you?”  She asked rhetorically as Ron grew progressively more and more agitated.  He cleared his throat, but Seamus ignored him.

“By the way,” Seamus tugged Hermione closer to him to whisper into her ear carefully.  “I’m not actually drunk.  I just got the sense that perhaps you’d like Ron to stop talking.  If you’re okay with this, act like I just said something sweet.  Otherwise, you can chalk it up to my being a right drunk idiot who just got some bad news.”  He winked again as he let her go.

“Seamus!”  Hermione giggled.  “We’re in public!”  She pretended to be affronted.

That was all the encouragement Seamus needed.

 “Sorry, Love.  Couldn’t help myself.”  Seamus said.  He didn’t look particularly sorry, Ron noted dryly.

The moment was cut short as Harry finally returned with drinks. Hermione knew that he’d been waiting for the conversation with Ron to blow over.  Ever the peace-maker lately, Harry understandably wanted to stay out of the middle.

Hermione noted that Harry had seemed to anticipate Seamus’ arrival fairly well.  “Figured you’d show up sooner or later.”  Harry smiled as he passed Seamus a butterbeer.

“Figured I didn’t have much of a choice.”  Seamus gestured toward Hermione.  “She’s right scary if you cross her.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ron muttered.  He eyed the drink in Seamus’ hand. “Not sure if you need that though, Mate.  Seems like you’ve already had enough.”

Hermione and Seamus ignored him.  “So, what’d they say?”  She asked curiously.

“Well,” Seamus began as he took a swig of butterbeer, “it’s definitely the curse.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other.  “That’s good news though, isn’t it?”  Harry looked at Hermione cautiously.

“Yes and no.”  Hermione answered.  “On one hand, we know what we’re dealing with.  On the other, we have no idea what’s causing it.”

“Pretty much,” Seamus agreed.

“So, if it’s good news, why are you drunk?”  Ron asked.  _And shamelessly hitting on my ex-girlfriend,_ Ron wondered to himself.

Seamus looked at him incredulously.  “Seriously?”  He asked.

Ron noted that Seamus seemed a whole lot less drunk than before.  He faltered under Seamus’ glare.  “I just meant that at least it’s not some other curse that you have no idea how to resolve.”  He finished lamely.

“Oh yes.  Because we’re so bloody close to solving _this_ mystery.”  Heaven forbid it be something else, something a little more _straightforward_.”  Seamus eyed Ron sharply.  “Or was this your way of saying I should be happy about my current one-way ticket to leprechaunville?”

 “Seamus. Calm down.  You know he didn’t mean anything by it.” Hermione put a comforting hand on his shoulder and attempted to pull him back toward her.

Ron nodded in agreement.  “Yeah, Mate.  I was just trying to be optimistic.”

Seamus looked as though he wanted to say something else.  After looking at Hermione, however, he seemed to change his mind.  Instead, he settled for glaring at Ron.

Harry awkwardly cut through the tension.  “Erm.  I think Ron and I should be headed back to the Ministry.”  He eyed Hermione and Seamus apologetically.

“Yeah, we should probably be heading back too.  Exams to prepare for and all.”  Hermione agreed. 

Neither Ron nor Seamus spoke as the four of them squared up their payments and gathered their things.

~

“I swear, if I become a leprechaun, I’m going to make it my personal mission to follow that red-haired prat around and ensure that he has no luck to speak of for the next decade.”  Seamus was saying, once the two had gotten a sizable distance away. “ _Why are you drunk, Seamus_?”  Seamus mimicked. “Gee, I don’t know, Ron. Couldn’t be that I’ve got less than 10 months to find an answer to this fecking curse.  Although, if you had half a brain, you’d know I wasn’t drunk by half.  Stupid git.”  He continued, mostly to himself.

Above them, the sky was growing dark and a light snow began to fall.

“Seamus.”  Hermione interrupted, stopping him mid-rant. “

“What?”  He snapped, still irritable. “Er, sorry.”  His tone softened as he stopped to look at Hermione. 

“I really think Ron was trying to be encouraging. He just has an unfortunate habit of speaking before he thinks sometimes.”  Hermione explained.

“You’re probably right.”  Seamus agreed.  At this, he looked a little bit guilty.  “Sorry for making an ass of myself earlier.”  He said somewhat sheepishly.

“It’s okay.”  Hermione smiled at him.  “Besides, you _did_ manage to distract him from his original goal.”

Seamus seemed to be contemplating something.  “Well, you looked rather uncomfortable when I got there. And,” he continued, “I figured it would be in my best interests to act.  You can’t break this whole curse thing wide open if you’re too busy wanting to strangle idiotic ex-boyfriends who can’t take a hint.” He joked.

Hermione smiled sadly.  “Ron’s not an idiot.  It’s just that I’m just tired of being an afterthought.”  She explained, realizing too late that she had spoken her final thought aloud.

Seamus stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.  “Ron most certainly is an idiot.  Anyone worth your time would never have taken you for granted in the first place.” He said seriously.  “You know that, right?”  He asked curiously.

Hermione felt herself reddening at Seamus’ unexpected proximity.  “I do.”  She said simply.

“Good.”  Seamus smiled as the two finally reached the castle gates.  

~


	8. Draco's Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This past week was a doozy. Anyway, here's Chapter 8. 
> 
> The only things I own are the errors. :-)

“Granger.”  Draco acknowledged in what was slowly becoming a routine meeting in the library.  It was Sunday afternoon and both students had their Transfiguration texts open, but neither was actually working.

“Draco.”  Hermione started.  “We’re being civil now.  The least you could do is call me by my first name.”

Draco sighed.  “Do you want to know what I found or not?”  He asked.

“I do, but I also want you to know that you’re actually capable of using my first name like a normal person.”  Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly.

In response, Draco adopted a heavier sigh and fought the urge the glare at her coldly.  Redemption efforts or not, dealing with this witch was going to be exhausting.  “ _Hermione_.”  Draco emphasized, perhaps a bit too heavily. 

Hermione smiled immediately.  “See, was that so hard?”  Ignoring Draco’s pained expression, she continued.  “So?”  She asked expectantly.

“I really should wait for Seamus to get here.”  Draco realized.

It was Hermione’s turn to sigh.  “He’s in detention with Slughorn.  Who knows how long that’ll last.”  She paused.  “Besides, don’t you have a meeting with McGonagall later tonight to go over revisions for your Transfiguration essay?”

Draco ignored her question.  “I still can’t believe Seamus managed to explode not one, not even two, but _three_ cauldrons.”  Draco was mildly incredulous.

“It wasn’t entirely his fault.”  Hermione defended.  “Neville sneezed right as Seamus was preparing the lacewing flies.”

“Even so, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Slughorn turn quite that shade of purple.” Draco raised an eyebrow.  “You know,” he started as he looked at Hermione meaningfully, “I never thought I’d see the day where Miss ‘Why-Can’t-You-Follow-Instructions’ would defend someone who’s lucky to have done even half of the reading before class.”  He adopted a decidedly feminine voice.  “Honestly, if you actually _read the book_ , you wouldn’t be in this situation.”   He mimicked.

Hermione scoffed. “That was different.”  She knew what Draco was referring to and it _had_ been different.  _Ron_ hadn’t had curses to worry about when he decided that an all-night wizards’ chess tournament with Dean had been more important than his coursework. “Besides,” she continued, “Seamus has other things on his mind right now—even if Neville hadn’t sneezed.”

“Maybe, but-” Draco stopped as a wicked thought occurred to him. Oh, this would be too good.  “You like him.”  Draco said slowly, enjoying the bright red that flashed across Hermione’s face.

Hermione looked at Draco as though he were a mite slow.  “Well, obviously.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t be helping him.”  She returned as she rolled her eyes. “Now, can we get on with it?” She asked impatiently.

Draco shook his head.  “ _Hermione._   You’d help a troll if it asked politely, but that’s not what I meant.  I meant that you, Hermione Granger have it bad for one Seamus Finnigan.”

Hermione glared.  “I do _not_.  Now, do you have anything to share or are you going to keep stalling?”

Draco put up his hands in mock defeat.  “Fine. Have it your way—but I expect an invite to the wedding.”

“Who’s getting married?”  Seamus asked from behind Hermione.

Draco grinned.  “Oh, no one you would know.  How was detention?”  He asked devilishly.

“Miserable.  Neville and I had to clean all of the cauldrons without magic.  Twice.”  Seamus emphasized.

Hermione shook her head.  “Well, you’re just in time.  Draco found something.”

“He did?  You did?”  Seamus turned from Hermione to Draco.

“I don’t need to explain the whole concept of Horcruxes to you.”  Draco started.

Seamus and Hermione groaned.  “No.”

“Good.  Although that’s not what this is.”  Draco explained, smirking as both Gryffindors glared at him.  “Apparently, very powerful dark witches and wizards can also manifest their essence into something tangible when they pass on—without killing anyone first.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  “I’ve read about that.” 

Draco nodded.  “It’s a similar concept as the one behind people choosing to stay behind as ghosts after they die.  However, there are several important distinctions.” He continued.  “First, it’s not an explicit thing.  There are no terms or conditions associated with this type of spiritual signature.  A lot of times, it’s not even something that the individual consciously chooses. Typically, an emotion like grief or anger ties them to this world.  Second, they can remain in sort of a deep sleep for years, even centuries.  Unfortunately, the longer they remain dormant, the more magnified whatever initially tied them to this world becomes once they become aware of themselves.”

He eyed Seamus.  “So, imagine you have a very vengeful dark sorceress.  Now imagine that she’s unwittingly attached herself to something—something that’s now in your possession.  Maybe your mum gave you some heirloom years back that’s been in the family for ages.  Anyway, let’s say this sorceress wakes up and realizes that you’re descended from one of the people who she blames for her situation.  What’s to stop her from taking out her anger on you?”

“I haven’t really inherited anything.”  Seamus paused, “Besides, supposing that this is what’s going on, if it’s something I’ve had in my family for years, why would Carman’s spirit remain dormant until now?  Surely others in my family would have come across it before it reached me.  Why wouldn’t they have been cursed too?”  Seamus interrupted.

It was a good question, Hermione noted.

Draco seemed equally puzzled.  “It was just a theory, but it’s the only other way that made sense for the curse to work when it hasn’t affected multiple people from the same generation…”  He mused.

“No,” Hermione interjected.  “Right now, it’s the best lead we’ve got.”  She turned to Seamus.  “It could have been something that you’ve handled more often than others or…”  She trailed off as something struck her.

“What?”  Draco and Seamus asked simultaneously.

“Or, it’s not a family heirloom at all.”  Hermione finished excitedly.  The first day of classes, Hermione had asked Seamus about his wand type.  _Red oak,_ he’d said.  She gasped suddenly.  It couldn’t be. Could it?

 

Flashes from various texts she’d read over the past two months came to her unbidden.

_“Many types of trees are seen as the abode of nature spirits.  Oak trees feature prominently into Celtic mythology.”_

_“…[Carman] found her fate, as was right, among the oaks of the strong graves.”_

Yes, that had to be it.  Hermione decided.  She’d always chalked up Seamus’ explosions to the temperamental nature of red oak wands as they grew accustomed to their user.  Maybe there was more to the story.  After all, seven years was more than enough time to acclimate—and yet, Seamus’ explosions were hardly a thing of the past.  Even so, something was bothering her.   Something she’d read about oak trees that she couldn’t quite place.  She shook her head.  It was probably nothing. 

Drifting back into the present, Hermione found Draco and Seamus still staring at her.  “Well?”  Draco drawled impatiently.  “Are you going to share with the class?”  He asked.

“Oh, sorry.”  Hermione apologized quickly.  She looked over at Seamus, who seemed just as perplexed as Draco. 

“It’s possible that your wand is the trigger.” She finally said.

Seamus shot Hermione a confused look.  “My wand?”  He asked.

“Red oak, right?”  Hermione affirmed.

“Yeah, but what does that have to-”

“Carman was buried under an oak tree.  Could it have been a red oak tree?” She asked.

Seamus shrugged.  “Dunno. Maybe?”

Hermione continued with her thought process.  “You said whatever spells that were cast to restrict her power wore off as she died, right?”

Seamus nodded.

“So, isn’t it possible that her spirit became entangled with the tree she was buried under?”  Hermione asked.

“It’s a stretch.”  Draco noted.  “I mean, okay. Let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re onto something with this.  Ollivander makes countless wands.  Are you saying that fragments of Carman’s spirit are trapped in each wand, just waiting to be released?”  He asked skeptically.

“Ollivander makes countless wands.”  Hermione conceded.  “But, he doesn’t mass produce them—and he certainly doesn’t exhaust his resources.  You remember the story of Harry’s wand, right?  A single phoenix only ever donated two feathers.” She started.

“And a right bloody mess that made.”  Seamus interjected.

“Anyway,” Hermione continued, “if Ollivander only uses one or two feathers from each phoenix, it’d be hardly surprising if he only used the occasional branch from each tree.  So, it’s entirely likely that only a few wands were ever created from this particular tree.  More importantly, it’s extremely unlikely that anyone descended from one of the four would have matched up with one of the few wands in existence before now.”

Draco and Seamus nodded.  It made sense.

“There’s no real way to know for sure.”  Hermione sighed heavily.

“Actually, there is.”  Draco returned.

Seamus was still processing.  “So, hypothetically, if you’re right, if I were to replace my current wand, the curse would be broken?”

Hermione shook her head.  “It’s unlikely.  I would think that we’d have to destroy the original wand too—and I have a feeling that won’t be easy, especially if Carman’s spirit is possessing it.”  She eyed Draco.  “What were you saying?”

“There’s a way to tell if there’s a conscious force in Seamus’ wand, beyond the ole ‘mind of its own’ magic that many wands like his possess.  We just have to brew a potion, sprinkle a few drops of the potion on Seamus’ wand and mutter an incantation.  If nothing happens, then it’s not his wand.  The spell is a little tricky though and the accompanying potion will take several months to prepare.”

“Great, because I have all the time in the world.”  Seamus muttered.

“It’s better than nothing.”  Draco returned.  “Although, don’t you have another out?”  He arched his brow questioningly.

Seamus reddened.  “Maybe, but it’s not exactly a surefire solution since—if you’re right,” he looked from Draco to Hermione, “this isn’t exactly the standard family curse.”

“Even so, don’t see why it’s not worth exploring—unless, of course, you’ve always wanted to be about three feet shorter, that is.”  Draco eyed him.

Seamus scoffed, but said nothing.  Draco had a point. 

The blonde wizard continued with a slight air of self-importance.  “Assuming that we tried to extract Carman’s essence from the wand, the potion wouldn’t be ready until December.”

“And,” Hermione interrupted, “we’d probably have to prepare some counter-measures.  Assuming that we _can_ extract her, I can’t imagine she’ll be happy to see us.”

“No, she might be a bit banshee-ish.” Draco agreed.

At this, Seamus paled considerably.  “Banshee?”  He repeated.

“Yeah, you know, skeletal-looking women, black hair…”  Draco explained before Hermione elbowed him.

“He _knows_ what a banshee is.  Don’t you remember Lupin’s class?”  Hermione hissed.

“Bloody terrifying.”  Seamus said. 

“I just meant she would be upset.  Dead people don’t just turn into banshees.”  Draco rolled his eyes.

Seamus turned to Draco.  “Just like wizards don’t go turning into leprechauns?”  He asked.

 “Erm.”  Draco faltered.

“I’m guessing they skipped over banshee history in your Dark Arts books.”  Seamus said without malice.  Hermione decided it was probably because despite his snark, Draco was actually being helpful—which was more than she could say for others.

Hermione paused.  “I thought banshees were kind of like the Grim—turning up if someone’s death is imminent.”

“Kind of.”  Seamus nodded. “It really depends on which origin stories you believe.  Me, I don’t fancy getting close enough to one to find out whether it’s the good or malevolent variety.”   Seamus explained.  He looked at Draco, “so what’ll we need for this potion?”

Draco consulted a different book.  “Mandrake root, leech juice, hawthorn, adder’s fork, witches’ mummy and beetle eyes.”  He read off.

“Beetle eyes will be easy enough and I know some of the mandrakes that Professor Sprout is gorwing have matured, but some of that stuff is rather dark.”  Hermione looked at Draco.

“Well it is a spell and potion from a Dark Arts book, so…”  Draco trailed off.

“Will it work?” Seamus wanted to know.

“It should.”  Draco noted.

“Borgin and Burkes next weekend then?”  Seamus asked. “If any place has witches’ mummy, it’ll be there.”

Hermione and Draco nodded. Albeit, Hermione’s nod was a little reluctant.

Draco shut his book quickly, before consulting the time.  “Now that that’s settled, I’m afraid I’ll have to deprive you two of my presence.  As _Hermione_ so kindly reminded me earlier, I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall to attend to.”

He stood up, leaving Seamus and Hermione to stare at each other.

“So, whose wedding?”  Seamus asked Hermione once Draco had gone. He seemed slightly perplexed.

“I’m sorry?”  Hermione eyed him as though he’d grown a third head.

“You and Draco were talking about someone’s wedding.  Did Harry finally pop the question to Ginny?”

Hermione continued to stare at him.  “You just found out that your wand might be possessed and instead of being worried about that, you’re going to ask about a possible wedding?”

Seamus shrugged.  “You have met me, haven’t you?  No one’s exactly going ‘round accusing me of being logical.  Besides, one of those discussions is a lot happier than the other.”

Hermione sighed. Seamus had a point, she admitted to herself. “No, Harry hasn’t popped the question yet—although Ginny’s threatened to hex him into oblivion more than once if he doesn’t hurry up.  Boy-who-lived heroics or not.  Although, I doubt she’s told him as much.”

Seamus snorted.  “He’s rather unobservant, isn’t he?”

_Pot, meet Kettle_ , a small voice in Hermione’s mind cried. “I suppose.”  Hermione agreed.  “Somehow, I’m sure he’ll manage to pick up on one of Ginny’s not-so-subtle hints.  Granted, it might take significantly longer than she might like.”  Hermione noted.

“So, who then?”  Seamus eyed Hermione again and the brunette witch felt her cheeks growing rather warm. 

“No one.  Draco was just attempting joke around, despite lacking a sense of humor.”  Hermione finished rather stiffly.

Unfortunately, Seamus wasn’t persuaded.  “You have a crush and Draco found out.”  He smirked.

“What?” Hermione’s tone implied incredulity, but her reddening cheeks indicated otherwise.

Seamus pretended to think before adopting a horrified expression.  “It’s not Ron, is it?”

Hermione laughed before reaching out to smack him across the table.  “I don’t have a crush on anyone and if I did, it most certainly would not be on Ron! Now, can you focus for one minute?”

Seamus snorted, but was prevented from retorting when a very put out Madam Pince appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Perhaps the two of you would be happier elsewhere?”  She asked, staring at the two of them disapprovingly.  It was not a question.

~

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out of the library!”  Hermione hissed as the two headed toward the Great Hall.

“Me?!”  Seamus asked in shock. “If you’d just admitted having a crush on someone and not practically shouted at me, Madam Pince would have never come over.”

Hermione huffed silently.  The two were seated at the Gryffindor table and thankfully there was still plenty of food left over from dinner—which had apparently been several hours earlier.

“So, who’ve you got a crush on anyway?  He’s a pretty lucky bloke.”  Seamus needled.

“I’ve told you.  I don’t have a crush on anyone.”  Hermione repeated.

Seamus was undeterred.  “I hope it’s not Dean.  Parvati will be mightily put out and I hear Hannah Abbott’s got her eye on Neville.  So, you might have some competition for Longbottom.  Wait.” 

Seamus realized with a start that the answer was right in front of him.  “You have a crush on Malfoy!”  He accused gleefully. 

He ignored the pit in his stomach as he said this aloud.  _Hermione’s crush was none of his business,_ he reminded himself.

 “Hardly.” Hermione snorted.  “Besides, if I had a crush on him, I wouldn’t need to ‘invite him to the wedding’ as he so helpfully suggested earlier.”

Seamus vaguely remembered Draco having said something like that.  The pit in his stomach lessened slightly.  “Alright, well since we’re clearly getting nowhere with my previous line of questioning, how about this?  What’s he like?”  Seamus asked.

“For the last time, Seamus.  I do _not_ have a crush on anyone.”

“Then why are you blushing?”  Seamus asked curiously.

“It’s early November in Scotland.  It’s cold outside.”  Hermione defended.

“And you’ve been in the library all afternoon—a library with multiple fireplaces.”  Seamus reminded her.

“Can we talk about something else?”  Hermione practically pleaded.

“Alright.”  Seamus agreed, grabbing several cherry tarts.  A thought occurred to him and he decided to test it out.  _Here goes nothing_.

“Well, I’ve been thinking.  This whole potion and incantation thing is a bit of a gamble.  Even if we get Carman’s spirit out of my wand—if she’s even in it in the first place—what then?  It’s not like she’s going to say, ‘oh, I’m so sorry Seamus.  Let me just go ahead and kindly undo the hex that _I_ created.’ I might as well have a back-up plan in place.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, as she waited for Seamus to continue.

“I think I’m going to heed Draco’s advice and start dating again.  I mean, right now, falling in love seems to be the closest thing I’ve got to a foolproof solution.”

Hermione choked on her shepherd’s pie.  “What?”  She asked.

Seamus smiled to himself.  _So, that’s why she didn’t want to own up to a crush._ He found himself feeling rather happy with this discovery.

“Yep.”  Seamus pretended to consider.  “Do you think Susan Bones would be interested in a date?”  He asked casually.

“I don’t know.”  Hermione’s tone seemed strained. “I can ask.”

“I don’t think she would.”  Seamus decided.  “And, even if she were, I don’t think I’d be interested.”

“Oh?”  Hermione looked up, curiously.  “Well then, who did you have in mind?”

“Well, rumor has it that I can be quite a slimy, underhanded git sometimes.”  Seamus thought back to the string of curses Hermione had uttered when they’d gone flying.

Hermione blushed.  “I’m not responsible for what I say when both feet are not on the ground.  You _knew_ I hated flying.”

Seamus smirked.  “Well, I had a good time.”

“Seamus Finnigan.”  Hermione said slowly.  “Is this your convoluted way of asking me out?”

“Is this your way of accepting?”  Seamus countered hopefully.

Hermione looked at him carefully, apparently searching for something.  “No.”  She said finally. Hermione gathered her things and stood up with more force than she’d intended.  Her gaze grew frosty. “I want to help you, but I’m not your back-up plan.” 

~

“Hermione, wait!”  Seamus caught up to her in the corridor perpendicular to the Great Hall.  “That came out wrong earlier.”

Hermione faced him and her eyes were stormy.  “You said yourself that no one worth my time would take me for granted.”

“Aye.”  Seamus agreed, taking the fact that she’d at least turned around as encouraging. “Believe me, asking you out was not me taking you for granted. I’d be a nervous wreck by now without you.”  He paused to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably.  “Maybe you’ve not noticed over the past six years since we weren’t especially close before, but I’m absolute shite with words.  Frankly, I’m amazed to have even had a girlfriend before.”  He admitted.

“I’m not your back-up plan.  I want to help you break this curse as much as you want me to, but I’m not going to date you in the off-chance you might fall in love with me.  That’s not fair to me.”  Hermione explained.

Seamus sighed.  “No—it wouldn’t be fair to anyone, really.  That’s part of the reason I’ve put off considering it in the first place.”  He agreed.  “You’re not a back-up plan.  And, if the only reason I was asking was because of the curse, then it wouldn’t be right.  If I’m being honest, I don’t really expect to fall in love within the year.  The reality is that I’m probably going to be celebrating my 19th birthday from yay high.”  Seamus gestured.

Hermione gritted her teeth.  “You’re really not selling this whole dating you thing.” 

Seamus noted that she didn’t seem as upset, however. He shook his head.  “Shite with words. I told you.” 

Hermione did laugh at that. It was tentative, but it was there.

Seamus continued.  “But, I do like you.  It’s not every day I meet someone who is perhaps more insufferable than me—and who has no problem calling me a git when I’m acting like one.  Which is often,” he added with a grin.  Then he grew serious.  “Hermione, forget the curse for a minute.  If it were just me asking you on a date because I genuinely enjoyed your company—and I do—what would you say?”

Hermione sighed.  “I’m going to ignore the fact that you called me insufferable.  I thought you said you weren’t good with words.”  She said, smiling slightly.

Seamus felt himself blushing.  “I’m not.”  He decided not to presume this time.  “So?”  He asked cautiously.

“One date.”  Hermione agreed.  “Just to see how it goes.”

“Just to see how it goes.”  Seamus repeated. “What about tomorrow night?  After our Charms exam, I don’t think we have any other exams until the following week.”

Hermione nodded.  “Alright.”

Seamus groaned suddenly with an unpleasant realization.  “I think I’ve forgotten half of what we studied yesterday.”

Hermione smiled.  “Well, I suppose it’s fortunate that we have the rest of tonight then.  How about we put all this aside until after our exam?”  She asked patiently.

“I’ll meet you in the Common Room with hot chocolates in thirty minutes?”  Seamus asked hopefully.

“Extra marshmallows!” Hermione reminded Seamus’ now-retreating figure.

Neither would admit it, but contrary to their promise to put things aside for the night, both were going to have a tough time staying focused this evening.

~


	9. It's a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this week is going to be a bit busy as well and I may not be able to update again until Wednesday. Hopefully, this chapter makes up for it? 
> 
> I take full credit for the errors and no credit for anything else.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :-)

“Merlin, that was easy.”  Seamus was saying.

“Are you insane, Mate?”  Dean wanted to know. 

“I think I failed.”  Neville said glumly.

“Well, Seamus did have a pretty good study buddy, didn’t you Seamus?”  Parvati winked knowingly.

Seamus reddened.  “You could’ve joined too.”  He mumbled.

“And interrupt what was surely a very involved session about how best to employ the ‘swish and flick’ method?”  Parvati asked.

“Hey, I finally mastered that stupid spell without setting anything on fire.”  Seamus defended.

“’bout time.”  Parvati grinned.  “We only learnt it first year.”

“Well, I know my Charms are wonderful, but truly, everyone is in awe of your Transfiguration abilities.” Seamus returned, grinning back.

“Shut up.”  Parvati glowered.

The Gryffindors were congregated outside of the Charms classroom following their exam.

Hermione had lent Seamus her wand for the exam.  The two had politely explained to Professor Flitwick that Seamus had misplaced his.  Not entirely true, but both had decided better safe than sorry.  Until they figured out if there was something amiss with Seamus’ wand, Seamus and Hermione had decided that maybe he avoid using it unless absolutely necessary.

Fortunately, the Ravenclaw Head of House had been sympathetic.  Apparently, he had misplaced his wand more than once in his youth.  Now as he and his fellow Gryffindors walked to lunch, Seamus was realizing that he and Hermione seemed to be the only ones having charitable thoughts toward the exam.  _Was this what Hermione Granger felt like all the time_ , he wondered. 

Dean swung his arm around Seamus, “Exploding Snap later?”  He asked.

“Sorry, can’t.”  Seamus said.

“We don’t have any assignments due tomorrow.”  Dean smirked knowingly.  “Oh, do you have plans with Hermione?”

“Are they finally dating then?”  Neville asked louder than necessary.

Hermione blushed and made her excuses.  Something about having to grab a quick lunch since her Artithmancy assignment wasn’t going to do itself.  It was funny because Seamus wasn’t aware that they’d had an assignment.

He turned to Dean.  “So how was _Madam Puddifoot’s_?”

It was Dean’s turn to falter.  “How did you-” He started. “I don’t know what-”

“It was _wonderful_.”  Parvati supplied while Dean attempted to form words.  “Did you know they’ve added Muggle dessert options?  And their tea cakes are simply delectable.”

Seamus did not know that.  “Oh really?  Dean, did you enjoy the tea cakes?” He asked innocently.

Dean gave him a two-fingered salute.

 “You should take Hermione sometime.”  Parvati was saying as Dean snorted.  She rounded on him.  “Is something funny?”  She asked Dean.

“Seamus. Madam Puddifoots.”  Dean choked out between wracks of laughter.  “He wouldn’t set foot in there if his life depended on it.”

“It’s really not bad once you get past the décor.”  Neville added.

“I’m capable of being romantic thank you very much—and I don’t need an overly pink tea room to do it.”  Seamus noted, ignoring Dean’s earlier choice of words.  “No offense, Parvati.  I’m sure Madam Puddifoot’s is lovely.”

“None taken.”  Parvati smiled before turning back to her boyfriend.  “If only others would take such _initiative_.”  She narrowed her gaze at the still-laughing Dean.  He instantly sobered.  “We er could go to the Quidditch match this weekend, Hufflepuff versus Slytherin?”  He asked lamely.

Parvati sighed.  “Seamus, I hope that when you take Hermione out, you’re more creative than that one.”  She pointed at Dean.

“Oi. Standing right here.”  Dean defended loudly.

“That was the point.”  Parvati sighed.  “Men,” she muttered as she walked off, probably to catch up with Hermione.

Seamus sighed. Well he certainly had his work cut out for him now.  Neville and Dean seemed to sense his thoughts.

“So, Mr. Romantic, where are you taking Hermione?”  Dean asked.  “Your date _is_ tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but as for what I have planned, it’s a secret.”  Seamus said.

“He has no idea.”  Neville clarified.

For once Longbottom was right—but Seamus was not about to admit it.  “I s’pose you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”  He said instead.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, okay.  More like we’ll hear about it tonight when Hermione shouts about your horrible lack of originality. You know Parvati’s probably in the library with her right now, filling her head with all kinds of impossible-to-achieve standards for what a date should be, right?”

Seamus’ heart sank. _Great_ , he thought. He was doomed and the date hadn’t even started.

~

As it turned out, Dean’s guess was not far from the mark.

“I’m telling you Hermione, don’t let him get off with the whole ‘candlelit dinner just for you’ bit.  He’d better do something original.”  Parvati encouraged while Hermione tried desperately to focus on her Arithmancy assignment.

Hermione laughed.  “Candlelit dinner?  Parvati, I think you’ve been watching too many Muggle movies from the Regency period.  Can you imagine Seamus or Dean doing that?  Really?”

Parvati shrugged.  “I can dream.”

“Anyway, I’m not really expecting much.  This is just a trial date.  We’re probably just going to walk around the castle or something and talk.”  Hermione explained.  _After all, that had always been Ron’s idea of a date._

Parvati tutted disapprovingly.  “That’s all the more reason for Seamus to actually make an effort!”  Parvati shouted, but quickly quieted upon meeting Madam Pince’s warning gaze.  She pulled out her History of Magic textbook and pretended to read until the librarian was distracted by some first years attempting to eat in the library.

“There will NO chocolate frogs in this library Misters Black and Cartwell!  Off with you both!”  Madam Pince was currently shooing the offending first years along.

Hermione shrugged.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.  If it goes well, we’ll go out again.  If it doesn’t, then at least we’re friends.”

Parvati about smacked herself.  “You are ridiculous.  Both of you.  Will you at least let me do your hair and makeup?”

Hermione stared at her, gobsmacked.  “You want to do my makeup?”  Hermione asked incredulously.

Parvati shrugged.  “And your hair, if you’ll let me.” 

Hermione eyed her fellow Gryffindor suspiciously.

Parvati rolled her eyes.  “Relax.  You’re a great person and I just want to do something nice for you.”  She giggled.  “Well and I’d like to see Seamus with his mouth open and _silent_ for once.  Merlin, when he and Dean get going they _do not shut up_.”  She emphasized.

Hermione stared at Parvati.  “It’s a date, not formal.  That’s really not necessary.”

Parvati shook her head.  “Oh, yes, it is.”

“Really, tonight’s not a big deal.”  Hermione started.  “Honestly, we’re probably better off as friends.”  She continued.

“Oh, hi, Seamus!”  Parvati perked up and waved to someone behind Hermione.

Instantly, Hermione blushed and turned.  No one was there.

“Not a big deal, huh?”  Parvati smirked.

“Shut up.  That was unfair.”

The other girl winked.  “Hermione, you of all people should know that all’s fair in love and war.”

~

Seamus paced nervously.  This was stupid.  It was just a date.  He’d been on loads of dates.  _Dates with Lavender that you did not have to plan_ , his brain reminded him. 

“Would you sit down already, Mate?  You’re going to wear holes into the carpet.”  Dean advised from his spot by the window.

“What time is your date anyway?”  Neville piped up from where he lay on the couch, lazily reading his Herbology textbook.

“Technically, it was supposed to start five minutes ago. She probably got distracted.”  Seamus smiled, imagining Hermione in the library, unaware of what time it was.  Then again, _what if she’d changed her mind and decided that she did not want to go on a date after all_. He decided that his inner voice really needed to shut up.

“Come sit down.  We can play Exploding Snap while you wait.”  Dean advised.

“Dean Thomas, don’t you dare!”  A voice called from upstairs. “Seamus needs to look nice for his date.  No exploding cards.”

“Barely been dating a few days and she already thinks she’s the boss of me.”  Dean grumbled.  “Insufferable.”

“I heard that!”  Parvati yelled back.

“Damned impeccable hearing too!”  He said a little louder.

“You love me!”

“Wouldn’t go that far.”  Dean retorted.

Instinctively, Seamus ducked as a high heel came sailing down the stairs and struck Dean in the head.

“Feck, Parvati’s got good aim.”  Seamus whistled appreciatively as Dean massaged his temple.

“Er, actually that was me.” 

Seamus looked up and promptly reddened.  “Hermione?”  He asked.

Dean nudged him.  “Might want to close your mouth, Mate.  You’re attracting flies.”  He whispered before turning back to Hermione.  “I thought we were friends, Hermione.  Truly, I’m hurt.”  He clutched his heart dramatically.

“Sorry, Dean.”  Hermione apologized. “Parvati spent the last hour working on my hair.  I owed her one.”

“Might not want to make her mad tonight.” Dean advised Seamus.

“Wasn’t planning to.” Seamus returned before staring at Hermione.  She was dressed in an oversized sage green jumper, black skinny jeans and black, flat ankle boots.  A warm-looking black pea coat was draped across one arm.  Her hair—normally down—was up in some kind of messy, braided updo, with a few tendrils framing each side of her face.  Her eyes were subtly outlined with liner and mascara and a thin coat of gloss sparkled on her lips.

“You look…nice.”  Seamus said.  Really, she looked a lot better than nice, but his brain wasn’t supplying any helpful adjectives at the moment.  “Where’d you learn to throw like that?”

Hermione shrugged.  “It was a lucky shot.”

“Right and Seamus isn’t tone deaf.  Seriously, the last time we went to a football match together in Ireland, he sang along to Amhrán na bhFiann.  Now, admittedly, I don’t know how that song is supposed to sound, but I guarantee it wasn’t like he sang it.  I swear, I could hear alley cats yowling in the background.”  Dean added.

“Yeah, thanks for broadcasting that, _Mate_.”  Seamus elbowed his friend hard.

Hermione snorted, before smiling at Seamus.  “Singing in tune is overrated.” She continued.  “It really was a lucky shot.  When I was growing up, my American cousins used to spend their summers with my parents.  They practically forced everyone in the neighborhood to play football with them.  I was never much good at it—but I did get a bit of throwing practice in.”  She shrugged before eying Seamus curiously.  “So, where are we going?”

“It’s a secret.”  Dean mimicked, complete with hand gestures.

Seamus rolled his eyes, while Hermione laughed. “Goodbye, Dean.”  He said, feigning annoyance.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”  Dean called behind them.

Seamus waved an acknowledgement before escorting Hermione out of the portrait entrance.

“So where are we actually going?”  Hermione asked before narrowing her eyes.  “You’re not taking me flying, are you?”

Seamus laughed.  “No.  I’d actually like to go on more than one date.  Although, I thought you decided that maybe flying wasn’t so bad after this weekend?”  He raised an eyebrow.

“Baby steps.”  Hermione advised.  “If not flying, what are we doing?”

Seamus answered with another question.  “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”  Hermione said.

Seamus smiled.  “Good.” 

Hermione stared at him, puzzled.

“Well, I thought we’d try cooking together.  Trouble is, the meal takes about two hours before it’s ready.  I promise that I cleaned my cauldron well enough for this.”  Seamus said as he led Hermione toward the Central Tower.  Although destroyed during the Final Battle, it had since been completely restored.

At Hermione’s unconvinced expression, Seamus clarified.  “Don’t worry.  I also asked Headmistress McGonagall to check the cauldron, to make sure that it was perfectly safe for non-potions brewing.  Can’t have me accidentally poisoning her favorite student, can we?”  Seamus watched as Hermione visibly relaxed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she followed him.  “You know, you could have just gone to the Room of Requirement and saved yourself a lot of the trouble.”  She noted.

“Ah, but that would’ve been like cheating!”  Seamus scoffed.  “No, better to do it the Muggle way—or, at least as Muggle as Hogwarts will allow.”  He amended.

Hermione had to admit, that was impressive.  Ron would never have done that, she thought.  He liked the magical world and the short cuts it offered way too much.  _Stop comparing him to Ron!_   Her inner voice chastised immediately.  Hermione sighed.  It wasn’t her fault she’d only ever dated one person.  Although, in fairness, she supposed Seamus was in a similar boat.

“So, what are we making?”  Hermione pushed her thoughts away as she looked at the vast assortment of ingredients aligned on a table pushed against the far wall of the rectangular tower.

“Irish Stew.  Or, at least that’s what we’re going to attempt.  I’ve never actually made it with anyone besides family.”  Seamus explained. 

“Where did you get all the ingredients on such short notice?”  Hermione asked, noting the piles of potatoes, onions and carrots on the table, before glancing toward the giant cooler that was situated underneath the table.

Closer the window, she noted that Seamus had set up his cauldron with a small firepit underneath, just waiting to be ignited.

“Who says I got them on short notice?”  Seamus asked curiously.

Hermione shot him a look.  “Well, did you?”  She asked.

Seamus sighed.  “I might have promised Dobby a months’ worth of knitted wool socks from Ireland.”

Hermione laughed.  “You knit?”

“Not exactly.  But, I do plan to purchase a fair amount of socks over winter break.  Trust me, you wouldn’t want me knitting anything.  Anyway,” Seamus continued after Hermione got over her initial laughter.  “I cheated a bit and already cut up the bacon and lamb.”  He gestured toward the cooler.  So, all we have to do is chop the vegetables into thin slices.  Just save four of the potatoes, if you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t mind.”  Hermione smiled, slightly impressed.  Seamus handed her a knife and the two set to work.

“So, what’s your favorite place at Hogwarts?”  Seamus asked as they began slicing the carrots into tiny pieces.  “The library doesn’t count.”  He added before Hermione could answer.

“Why not?”  Hermione asked, slightly put out.

Seamus raised an eyebrow.  “Because we both know that was what you were going to say, and the whole point of tonight is to get to know each other better.”

“You don’t know that I was going to say the library.”

Seamus adopted a version of the look that Hermione had shot him before.  “Well, were you?”

“That’s not the point!”  Hermione insisted.

Seamus snorted, nearly butchering his carrot in the process.  “More like you don’t like someone else being right for a change.”  He smirked.  “So, outside of the library, where’s your favorite place to be?”

Hermione paused.  Most of the time, when she went anywhere other than the library or the dormitory, it was for classes or some other important reason. The more she talked with Seamus, the more she was starting to realize that she really didn’t take the time for herself that she should.

“I like the Common Room, at night when most of the other students have gone to bed and it’s quiet.  I can just cuddle up on the couch by the fire and read in peace.”  Hermione said finally.  “What about you? And, it has to be an actual place, not just ‘any time you’re on your broom.’”  She clarified.

Seamus laughed.  She’d got him there, but he’d been expecting as much.  “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I won’t.”  Hermione said seriously.

“Well, I’ve actually found myself enjoying the library recently.”  Seamus said with a straight face.

“No, you haven’t been.”  Hermione smiled.

Seamus pretended to pout.  “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”  He accused.

“Last I checked, smiling wasn’t laughing.”  Hermione actually did laugh then.

“Fine.”  Seamus mock glared.  “Well, when Madam Pince isn’t glaring at me and one of giant windows with the built-in seats is available, it’s actually not terrible—and it’s a whole lot warmer than being outside in this weather.  Plus, the company is usually pretty good.” 

Seamus winked and Hermione blushed. “I think we’ve about cut up everything.”  She surveyed the table.

“Yep!”  Seamus agreed.  “Now all we have to do is make repeated layers of vegetables and meat until we run out.  After each layer, put a bunch of salt and pepper on top and then keep going.”

“Seems easy enough.”  Hermione said.

The two finished layering the ingredients and Seamus added a bit of parsley. Hermione eyed the remaining potatoes. Seamus quickly halved the potatoes and set them on a metallic plate that Hermione hadn’t noticed before.  He looked at the layered portion.  “Can I borrow your wand again?”  He asked.

Hermione handed him her wand.  Seamus pointed the wand into the cauldron.  “Aguamenti.”  He correctly pronounced and a thin stream of water steadily poured from his wand.  It filled the cauldron up just enough to cover the ingredients.  Next, he put the plate of potatoes atop the cauldron and ignited the flames to a low height. 

Handing Hermione back her wand, Seamus eyed his cauldron.  “Now, we wait.”  He said, smiling.  “Would you want to go on a bit of a walk with me?”

Hermione felt her heart sink.  Admittedly, she hadn’t expected much from the date, but it had started off so encouragingly.

Seamus seemed to have noticed her expression.  “I mean, we don’t have to.  I just seem to remember you liking that Hogwarts, A History book.  Kept trying to check it out for myself, but it seems permanently disappeared.  Anyway, I thought we could go ‘round to some of the lesser known parts of the castle and just explore.”

Hermione smiled.  “Alright.”  She agreed.

“Besides, apart from the library—which you still don’t seem to believe me about—you hardly know _my_ favorite parts of the castle.”  Seamus smiled encouragingly.

“Well then.”  Hermione was intrigued.  “Lead away.”

“Oh, I will, but first, would you mind casting a shielding charm on this door?  I’d really hate for Peeves to get in here and destroy our hard work.”

“Good thinking.”  Hermione noted and quickly cast a charm.

~

The two were strolling around the lower floor, near the Great Hall.  It remained early evening.  So, there were still plenty of other students milling about. 

“So, Dean and I might’ve gotten bored from time to time.  We used to follow the Weasley twins.  Never figured out how they knew about so many trapdoors and secret passages.”

“Maurader’s Map.”  Hermione explained simply.  “It’s the most comprehensive map I’ve ever seen.  Plus, it tells you where any person is at any given time—and it’s not fooled by glamor attempts.”

“No wonder they never got detention.  Really could’ve used that last year.”   Seamus muttered.  “Might’ve gone without a few black eyes.”

Hermione seemed to remember that he’d been pretty banged up that year.

“What happened while we were gone?”  Hermione asked.

“A right lot.”  Seamus said simply.  “Not really the kind of thing I’d planned to talk about on a date.” He said, instantly regretting his previous comment.

Hermione shrugged.  “You said yourself that this was about getting to know one another.”  She reminded him.

“Yea, but I’d envisioned things more of the ‘what’s your favorite music?’ and ‘which Quidditch team do you hate least?’ variety.”  Seamus clarified.

“I don’t see why we can’t do both.  If you’re okay with it, that is.”  Hermione added, realizing that perhaps she was being a bit pushy.

Seamus shrugged.  “Guess I haven’t really talked too much about it.  Tell ya what.  Let me take you to a place that I used to spend a bit of time at—and, if you still want to know once we get there, then I’ll tell you.”

“Okay.”  Hermione agreed.  She was surprised when they were headed back, up to the third floor, in front of the one-eyed witch statue.

Seamus watched her expression.  “Something tells me you know what this is.”

Hermione nodded. 

“I think we might need some dessert to go with the stew anyway.”  He faced the witch.  “Dissendium!”  He called.  The witch’s hump opened to reveal a slide.

“Shall we?”  Seamus asked.

“Seamus, it’s late!  We’re not supposed to just leave the school grounds.”  Hermione exclaimed.

“We’re eighteen and managed to survive a battle.  Somehow, I don’t think McGonagall’s likely to expel us.”  Seamus said matter-of-factly.  “Besides, you’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you?  Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Hermione adopted Seamus’ original tone.  “Think I’ve had enough adventures for a lifetime.”  She sighed heavily.

“Always room for one more.  Besides, this one’s less about defeating the forces of evil and more about having fun.”  Seamus emphasized as he headed toward the slide.

“Can we get tea cakes at Madam Puddifoot’s?”  Hermione asked seriously.

Seamus stopped and stared at her.

At his shocked expression, Hermione dissolved into a fit of giggles.  “Parvati might’ve mentioned it.”  She doubled over when Seamus’ expression remained concerned.

“So, you don’t really want tea cakes?”  Seamus asked tentatively.

“No!”  Hermione exclaimed between gasps.

Seamus relaxed before shooting Hermione an exasperated look.  “That was mean.”

“But your face…” Hermione defended, still laughing.

Seamus hadn’t heard Hermione laugh that hard in a while.  She had a nice laugh, he decided. “Alright, c’mon then.”  He feigned annoyance. “The passageway isn’t going to stay open forever.”  He stepped onto the slide and Hermione followed him.

Unfortunately, the slide was a bit shorter than Hermione remembered. She and Seamus landed in a heap onto the passageway.

“Sorry!”  Hermione said, no longer laughing as she rushed to get off of Seamus.

“S’alright.  I’ve had worse.  Besides, this was my idea, in case you forgot.”  Seamus dusted himself off.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked a bit perplexed.  “You know, if we go straight to Honeydukes, we’ll be cutting it awfully close for the stew.  It takes an hour one way to walk down this passageway.”

Seamus nodded.  “I might’ve ordered something ahead of time and asked if it could be delivered at the halfway point.  I figured it was safe since few people know about the passageway.”

Hermione shook her head in amazement.  “And just who do you know outside of Hogwarts who would be willing to do something like that?”

Seamus laughed.  “I thought you would’ve figured that one out pretty quickly.  Who else knows about the passageway and wouldn’t mind doing something nice, especially if happens to be for a pretty witch named Hermione Granger?”

Hermione paused.  “ _You got George Weasley to help you?_ ”  She asked, incredulity lacing her tone.

“Honestly, I was expecting him to say no—and I think he was going to say as much until I casually mentioned that I wanted to take you on a date.  He agreed and even gave some recommendations about what desserts you like.  He did threaten to hex me if I bollixed it up, however.”  Seamus sighed. “I got the impression he was still upset with his brother on that front.  He also said to tell you that thanks to you, he’s feeling decidedly less holy these days. Dunno what that means.”  He paused.

Hermione laughed.  “Think he meant ‘holey,’ not ‘holy’.”  She clarified.

Seamus seemed to remember that George had lost an ear during the war—but he hadn’t noticed it when he met the older Weasley earlier.  “Did you…”  He trailed off, looking at Hermione questioningly.

“Fix his ear?”  Hermione finished.  “Not exactly, but I did find a pretty intricate glamoring charm and sent it to him.  Better yet, the glamor also amplifies hearing—pretty useful when you work in a joke shop and you’ve got to constantly make sure that the customers aren’t about to sample the merchandise.”  Hermione smiled.

“Wow.”  Seamus exclaimed.  “That’s pretty impressive.”

“Well, it’s not like I actually cast the charm.  I just sent it along.”  Hermione explained.  “George did all the heavy lifting himself.”

“Still though.”  Seamus mused.

“So, you said you’d tell me more about last year if I was still interested?”  Hermione asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Seamus groaned.  “I wasn’t expecting you to remember that.”

“Brightest witch of the age, didn’t you say?”  Hermione winked.

Seamus was really regretting having said anything of the sort, even if it was true. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”  He asked.

When his only answer was a self-satisfied grin from Hermione, Seamus sighed bitterly.  “As you might have gleaned, the Carrows weren’t exactly the compassionate sort.  They were convinced that we were all embroiled in some sort of conspiracy against them—even though most of us were just trying to survive the school year.  Their solution was detention, after detention.  It started with lines from Umbridge’s ‘special pen’ and devolved into hexes and eventually the Cruciatus Curse.  On everyone, _including first year students_.”

Hermione gasped.  “How could they do that?”

“Who was there to stop them? Dumbledore was dead and the Ministry was overrun with Death Eaters who would’ve done the same to us, if they’d been in charge.  McGonagall did what she could, but she had to walk a tight line.  Otherwise, she would have been out and there would have been no one.”

“So, what happened?”  She asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

At this, Seamus gave a wry grin.  “Well, I’ve always been a bit of a hothead.  Decided to put it to good use last year.”

“What do you mean?”  Hermione asked.

“Not a lot of Death Eaters like wizards or witches with authority problems.  A lot of them are power-hungry nobodies who have based their own identities solely out of their ability to inspire terror in others.  Going against their orders tends to feed on their own insecurities and make them unreasonably angry.  It also distracts them from whatever—or whoever—they were previously focused on.  So, if I happened upon a younger student who seemed to be in jeopardy, I might have engineered a distraction or two.  Minor things, really.  A leglocker curse thrown this way, a small fire that.”  Seamus shrugged.  “Anyway, it had its desired effect most of the time and they took their rage out on me instead.”

“Seamus!” Hermione stared at him.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“About?”  Seamus was puzzled by her intense reaction.

“What you did.  Shacklebot would have likely given you a commendation or something.”  Hermione emphasized.

Seamus shrugged, still not grasping what the big deal was. “Don’t care about stuff like that.  Besides, I was 17. I could take the Carrows’ punishments a whole lot better than an 11 year-old could.  Anyone in my shoes would’ve done the same.”

“Yours was the only face that was unrecognizable, when Harry, Ron and I returned to Hogwarts.”  Hermione said softly.

Seamus sighed.  He hadn’t been trying to be brave, only trying to do what was right in his mind.  “Anyway, we’re here.”  He gestured toward a bright yellow box that sat waiting in the middle of the passageway.

Hermione was not so easily dissuaded.  “People don’t give you nearly enough credit and they should.”

“I told you, I don’t care about stuff like that.” Seamus repeated.

“Maybe I do.”  Hermione looked into his eyes.  “You’re a good person, Seamus Finnigan.

He smiled slightly.  “Glad you think so.”  He said as he looked back her seriously.  He picked up the box.  “Now, if you don’t mind, we should probably head back before the stew blows up or something.”

 Nervously, he held out his hand and, perhaps surprising to them both, Hermione took it.

~

“This is _really_ good.”  Hermione said.  The two were eating their stew back in the Central Tower.  They had cleaned up the cauldron and put out the fire.  Seamus had somehow managed to transfigure two wooden stools into a much comfier couch option.  Hermione supposed she had Fergus to thank for Seamus’ transfiguration abilities.

“I can’t take all the credit.”  Seamus reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Hermione grumbled.  “So, what’s for dessert?”

“Well, I might’ve had a custom order—which is why I needed someone to pick it up later.  I had enough time to go to Hogsmeade earlier to place the order, but if I’d waited for it, I would’ve missed History of Magic.  Then again, I doubt Binns would have noticed if old ‘O’Flaherty’ didn’t show up for class.”  Seamus rolled his eyes.  “Merlin.  You’d think he’d know my name by now.”

Hermione snorted. “He still thinks Ron is Weaselby, if that helps.”

“A little.”  Seamus admitted.

“You never answered my question, by the way.”  Hermione reminded him.

“Might be easier to just show you.”  Seamus decided.  He pried the lid off the box and held it out for her inspection.

Inside the box were six cupcakes.  One appeared to be red velvet topped with cream cheese icing arranged to look like a small lion.  Another was chocolate and iced with vanilla frosting in the shape and colors of a Gryffindor scarf.  There was a pinkish-looking cupcake iced with the Union Jack and what Hermione could only guess was a carrot cake one with Ireland’s flag atop it.  The remaining cupcakes looked to be vanilla.  One was iced with blue frosting and topped with a tiny broom.  The other was iced with red frosting and topped with tiny books.  Hermione could even read one of the labels: Hogwarts, A History.

“George couldn’t remember for certain which flavors were your favorite.  So, I hedged my bets a bit.  I thought this was a good mix.”

“Wow.”  Hermione breathed.  “This is amazing.”

Seamus looked over at her.  “Still think you’re a back-up plan?”  He asked seriously.

Hermione set down her empty bowl and scooted closer to him on the transfigured couch. Seamus was as warm as she remembered from the Leaky Cauldron.  This time, he didn’t smell like firewhiskey.  Instead, he smelled like a mixture of fresh pine with a hint of smoke.  Hermione found that she quite liked this.

“No.” She smiled slightly.  Perhaps she had given her insecurities a bit more free reign than necessary yesterday.  “Would you mind putting those down for a moment?”  She asked quietly.

“Sure, but why-” Seamus started to ask after he set down the cupcakes.

He didn’t get a chance to finish that thought.  Hermione wrapped her arms around him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. 

Seamus hadn’t expected the kiss, but was disappointed when it ended just as suddenly.  It had been tentative, but sweet.  Hemione looked at him, seemingly slightly embarrassed by her actions. 

Seamus smiled, hoping to show her that he was very happy with this turn of events.  Gingerly, he cupped his hand around Hermione’s cheek and leaned back toward her, before she could inch further away.  He looked straight into her eyes, as if to ask permission.  When she only smiled, he pushed his lips softly against hers again.  As he kissed her, he let his hand stray from her cheek, to gently run his fingers through the stray hairs that framed the right side of her face.  A warm feeling filled his chest as they broke off the second kiss.

“That was nice.”  Seamus said as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Maybe we should do it again? You know, just to make sure?”  Hermione asked, blushing furiously.

Seamus laughed.  “No arguments from me.”  He winked.  Soon, Hermione found herself practically in Seamus’ lap as their kiss intensified.  Seamus had wrapped one arm tightly around her waist and the other was exploring her hair.  Hermione’s arms were draped lazily around Seamus’ neck.  When they finally came up for air, they smiled at one another.  Carefully, Hermione scooted off of Seamus and opted to lean slightly into him instead as he wrapped his arm around her and lightly kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t think it was a fluke.”  Seamus whispered.

“No, I don’t think so either.”  Hermione tilted her head slightly and found herself staring into a pair of brightly shining blue eyes.

“Does this mean you’d consider another date?”  Seamus asked her quietly.

Hermione smiled up at him.  “And here I was thinking you were a pretty smart wizard, Mr. Finnigan.  What do you think?”

Seamus grinned slightly.  “I don’t know that you’ll like what I think.”

Hermione cuddled up closer against his side.  “You know, there’s a pretty easy way to find out.”

Seamus shrugged.  “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think that I’d like to go on more than one more date with you.”

Hermione’s smile grew.  “I think I’d like that too.”  She glanced over at the neglected desserts.  “I suppose we’d better take advantage of these cupcakes, while they’re still good.  Mind if I have the carrot cake one?”  She asked.

“Only if you don’t mind my eating the strawberry one.”  Seamus returned.

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit longer, before heading back to the Common Room.

~

When they returned, Neville, Parvati and Dean had been waiting for them.  Granted, each had then taken great pains to explain that their presence was entirely coincidental and all that.  Dean had seemed disappointed that neither Hermione nor Seamus seemed inclined to talk about the date.  However, he had been appeased when he and the others had been offered a cupcake for their trouble.

Soon after, Seamus and Hermione found themselves alone in the Common Room.  Both were seated on the couch, nearest to the fireplace.   Well, Seamus was sitting.  Hermione was half-sitting, half-lying up against him.  Not that he minded one bit. 

“Whatcha thinking about?”  Seamus asked her curiously.

“Just thinking about your wand.”

Seamus blushed.  “You’re thinking about my wand already?  Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for– oh. Right.” 

Hermione looked up at him, rolling her eyes.  “Honestly.  Don’t make me regret dating you already.”

Seamus leaned down and kissed her cheek.  “Sorry.  Anyway, what’s bugging you about my wand?”

Hermione didn’t answer, still too busy wracking her brain.  She opened the book closest to her: _Heritage Trees of Ireland._    Moments later, she sat up with a jolt.

_There were no red oak trees in Ireland. She had been wrong._

“Seamus!”  Hermione practically shouted.

 “What?” He asked seriously, concerned by her tone.

“It’s not Carman.”

~


	10. A Reassessment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay! I promise I'm not dead - just currently inundated with exams. I was a bit frantic to post something. So, if there are any errors, those are all on me. 
> 
> I own nothing!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :-)

“What do you mean it’s not Carman?”  Seamus gaped.  “But you said…”

“I know what I said, but it can’t be her.”  Hermione said, suddenly irritable.  “Your wand is red oak.  Red oak trees don’t exist in Ireland.  There’s no way her spirit is in your wand.” 

“So, that’s it. Seamus sighed with frustration.   “All that time and we’re back to square one.  My wand is fine, albeit a bit temperamental.  I can’t think of anything else in my possession that could be causing this curse.  My family’s not the most traditional in the world—and the heirlooms we do have are still with my grandparents.  Do you want to tell Draco that he’s not as smart as he thinks he is?”

“Ordinarily, I’d love to, but I really do think there’s something up with your wand.  You’ve had it for how long and it still causes fires and explosions? Even first year, there was no logical reason for your feather to randomly catch fire.” Hermione shook her head adamantly.

“I _was_ a bit overly insistent that it fly.  So, it’s likely my wand decided I was being an idiot and wanted to take me down a peg or two.”  Seamus admitted. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Hermione snorted, remembering the time he’d tried to transfigure water into rum.  “I guess that’s true.”  She agreed.

“You didn’t have to agree so readily.”  Seamus pretended to be hurt.

Hermione looked back at his puppy dog expression.  “You did set yourself up for that.”  She grinned wryly.

“You wound me.”  Seamus sighed, nudging her slightly.  “Anyway, it’s probably taking longer to adjust to my bouts of idiocy.  After all, it worked fine in the Battle.  It likely just has its own ideas about what magic it should be used for.  Somehow, I’d imagine floating feathers and rum are not high on its list of priorities.”

Hermione shrugged. “Even so.  Your wand has had plenty of time to adjust to you.  I get that phoenix feathers are a bit testy, but six years is entirely too long for it to suffer the occasional major malfunction.”

Seamus raised an eyebrow.  “Well then, what do you suggest?  Carman’s long-lost sons come back for a bit of revenge?”  He rolled his eyes.

Hermione stared at Seamus.  “Actually, I do.”

At Seamus’ ‘I-was-clearly-joking’ face, she continued seriously.  “Think about it.  Nothing we read was particularly clear about what happened to them.  Some scholars think they were killed before Carman died—and that Carman died of grief.  The Metrical Dindshenchas says that the sons were ‘banished across the sea.’ But, that interpretation wouldn’t make sense given the next few lines, talking about how they couldn’t go southward, back to the land of Eire.  Greece is south of Ireland.  If they couldn’t go south at all, where was left for them to go?”  Hermione asked wonderingly.  “Why not North America?”

“Just because there’s not a lot written about them doesn’t automatically make them responsible.”  Seamus reminded her.

“It’s still worth pursuing.”  Hermione said, attempting unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

Seamus yawned in return.  “Maybe.”  He acknowledged.  “But, it can probably wait until tomorrow.” With this, he adopted a very Hermione-esque tone.  “We’d best get some sleep.  Wouldn’t want us to not be able to think straight and all that.”

Hermione swatted at him.  “Shut up.”

“Just repeating the words of a very wise witch.”  Seamus winked.

Hermione grumbled, but allowed Seamus to help her up.  Softening, she had another realization as she stood.  She’d always been slightly taller than Seamus, but as the curse dragged on, she was beginning to feel a bit like a giant by comparison.  Her eyes must’ve lingered a bit longer on him than she’d meant for them to.

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m short. I know.”  Seamus muttered, apparently reading her thoughts.

Hermione stared at him.  “Oh, get over yourself.”  She said finally.  “Recent epiphanies aside, I was just going to thank you for a great night.  Don’t go screwing it up now.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”  Seamus asked curiously.

“Obviously not.”  Hermione raised her eyebrow.  “Unless your personality undergoes a similar transformation.”

“Not likely.  I’ll be the same git next month too.”  He grinned, a bit more relaxed.

Hermione shook her head.  “You’re ridiculous.” 

“It’s part of my charm.”  Seamus smiled as he happily led Hermione upstairs. “But about the date?” He prodded.

Hermione elbowed him gently.  “You really have to ask?”

Seamus shrugged.  “Never planned one before.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”  Hermione said once they reached the top of the stairs.

Before he could think better of it, Seamus pulled Hermione close to him.  Internally, he debated whether he would be pushing it to kiss her again.  He settled for a tight hug and a whispered goodnight.

~

The next afternoon, Draco eyed the pair of them like they’d gone insane.  “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”  He repeated incredulously as he stared at Seamus and Hermione.

“Well, we don’t really know what became of them, do we?”  Hermione asked.

Draco smacked himself in the forehead.  “Granger, this is beginning to sound like a wild goose chase.”

“ _Hermione_.” Hermione reminded him.

Draco ignored her this time.  “This entire situation makes no sense.”  He continued.  “I’m willing to accept that I was wrong.  Maybe we should reassess.”

Seamus shrugged. “I mean, we don’t really have anything to lose by at least trying, do we?”

“ _We_ don’t.”  Draco agreed.  “ _You_ do, however.”  He reminded Seamus.

“Do you have a better idea?”  Seamus asked curiously.

Draco adopted a pained expression.  “No,” he said before turning to Hermione.  “Is this what life was like for the Golden Trio in the years leading up to the war?  Just keep trying things and see what sticks? If so, I’m suddenly grateful to not have been a part of it.”  He groaned.  “This entire ordeal is giving me a headache.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “You’re the one who offered to help in the first place.”

Draco sighed, acknowledging that for now, he’d been beaten.  “Fine. We’ll get the ingredients. We’ll make the potion and see if anything comes out of that godforsaken wand of yours.”  He eyed Seamus exasperatedly.  “You sure you can’t just fall in love?”  He asked Seamus pointedly.

At Seamus’ dumbstruck expression, Draco shook his head.  “Nevermind. Finnigan. Granger.”  He nodded at them. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Potions exam to study for.”  He gathered his things and left the library in a huff.

“That went well.”  Hermione sighed.

“You have to admit, it’s all a bit insane-sounding.”  Seamus said.

Hermione groaned.  “Not you too.”

“All I know is I’ll be grateful when we can actually cast the spell and have more definitive answers.”  Seamus said.

“Agreed.”  Hermione pulled out her Transfiguration textbook.  “In the meantime, we should probably study.”  Hermione decided.

“Oh, no you don’t.  I like the library well enough, but I don’t have any vast desire to live here permanently.  We’ve already been in here since History of Magic ended three hours ago.”  Seamus complained. Come on, we’re taking a break.  We can study later. Maybe.”  Seamus uttered the last bit under his breath as he practically dragged Hermione out of the library.

“Where are we going?”  Hermione asked.

“Outside.”  Seamus said.

“That’s very non-specific.”  Hermione noted.

“I don’t intend to spend what’s possibly my last year as a human stuck doing work exclusively.  We’ve done what we can with the curse until we actually get the ingredients-”

“We could always take a break from schoolwork by researching possible defenses,” Hermione interrupted.  “If there is something in your wand, we can hardly afford to be unprepared.”

Seamus was undeterred.  “Researching something else is still research and we have plenty of time for that _after_ we get the ingredients.  The potion isn’t exactly going to be ready to brew overnight.”  He reminded her.

“But, our Transfiguration and Potions exams are both next week!”  Hermione reminded him.

“That doesn’t sound like a today problem and we did spend the first two hours studying Potions in that infernal library.  I’ve studied more this year already than I have during my last few years combined.”  Seamus stressed.

Hermione glared at him.  “Oh, so it’s the infernal library now? No one was _forcing_ you.”

Seamus quirked an eyebrow.  “Oh no?  _Seamus, we have to study for Potions!  I’m so worried about the exam, I can’t keep all the ingredient functions straight.  I know gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater and dittany has restorative features…no wait that’s bloom berry…_!”  He imitated Hermione’s panicked tone from earlier.

“Still, I didn’t forcibly drag you to the library after class.”  Hermione repeated.

Seamus looked at her.  “You really think I’m just going to let you tear your hair out over an exam by yourself? After all the time you’ve spent helping me?  After our date the other night?  What kind of person would that make me?”

Hermione sighed.  “I guess you have a point.  Thank you for keeping me company earlier.  I might’ve been a little stressed.” She admitted.

“A little?” Seamus repeated.  “Hermione, that’s like saying that the blast-ended skrewts from fourth year were a little dangerous.”  He massaged his temples.  “One of few things that I think Slytherin and Gryffindor were in agreement about back then.”

“They weren’t _that_ bad.”  Hermione said defensively.

“Oh really?  You were singing a different tune then.”  Seamus smirked.   “But, we’re getting off track.  I think we need a compromise for exams.  I’m perfectly fine studying more.  Lord knows, at this rate, my mum might die of shock this term when my grades come back.  But, we have to take a break—for both of our sanities.”

“Fine.”  Hermione said grudgingly.  “Only an hour though.”

Seamus shot her a look.

“What?”  Hermione asked.

“Hermione.”  Seamus sighed heavily. “The exams are next week.”  He repeated.

“But, we’ll be busy this weekend with the potions and defense spells and…”  Hermione rambled as Seamus crept closer.

“And we’ll study.  I promise.”  Seamus said, inches away from her face as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.  “Maybe we can even have a Gryffindor study party.”

Hermione reddened at his touch before glaring at him.  “That’s not fair.  You can’t just cuddle up to me and expect to distract me from my argument.”

Seamus smirked.  “No one accused me of being fair.  Now, can we please enjoy this uncharacteristically warm November day?”  He asked as he pulled her further away from the castle.

“Fine.”  Hermione grumbled.

“You’d think I’d just given you detention.”  Seamus shook his head as he watched Hermione pout with her arms folded across her chest.  “Is hanging out with me, away from textbooks, really so bad?”  He asked.

The two were seated near the lake – close enough to enjoy a scenic view, but well out of the giant squid’s reach, should it decide that it was feeling particularly mischievous.

“No, but I really need to make sure I’m prepared for the N.E.W.T.S. this spring.”

“And, you will be—if you aren’t already.”  Seamus put his arm around her.  “But, you also need a balance.  Studying and breaking this curse are important—but so is taking time to enjoy life and finding what makes you happy.  If I remember correctly, _someone_ couldn’t think of many things she did for fun apart from studying.”  He reminded her.  “Say what you will, but I’m making it my personal mission to help you actually enjoy yourself once in a while.”  He sensed Hermione relax against him.

“I do enjoy myself.”  She said as she leaned against him lazily.

“Hermione, what do you want out of life?”  He asked suddenly as he wrapped an arm around her.  “We’re not going to be at Hogwarts forever, you know.”

“I…”  Hermione paused.  “I don’t know, really.  I guess I’d always thought that I’d work at the Ministry one day.”

“But now?”  Seamus prodded.

“I don’t know.  Despite all that’s happened and all the changes that Shacklebot is trying to enact, the Ministry still seems horribly biased.  From what Harry has told me, there are plenty of people who—while they didn’t exactly shout Voldemort’s accolades from the rooftops—weren’t too sorry to see him take control either.”

Seamus shuddered.  “Nothing like a war to show peoples’ true colors.”  He mused. “So, if not the Ministry, then what?”  He asked.

“Maybe a healer?”  Hermione thought aloud.  “I do like helping people and, although you might find it surprising, I don’t particularly like being in the spotlight.”

Seamus smiled.  “I don’t find it surprising, actually.  You never struck me as the bragging sort.”

“That didn’t stop you and Dean from teasing me about being a know-it-all before.” 

Seamus snorted.  “We teased everyone.  With your outbursts at Ron, you just happened to provide more material than most.”

Hermione mock glared. “It’s not my fault he never paid attention in class and had the emotional range of a teaspoon.”  She said in a huff.

“Easy, Killer.”  Seamus said.

“So, what do you want to do after graduation?”  Hermione asked, deciding that she didn’t want to be the subject of conversation anymore.

“I dunno, really.  I’m decent at pyrotechnics, but there’s not really a huge demand for that in the wizarding world.”

Hermione shrugged.  “Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.”  She stated.

“Maybe.”  Seamus shrugged.  “I also kind of considered teaching.”

Hermione looked at him seriously.  “I think you’d be good at that!”

“Really?”  Seamus asked incredulously.

Her smile was appreciative.  “Despite everything you’ve been through, you have a positive attitude—except when you’re sleepy.  Then, you get a bit cranky.”  Hermione winked at him before continuing seriously.  “You obviously care about kids and are willing to put their needs before your own.”  Hermione thought back to what Seamus told her about the Carrows.  “And, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thanks for not laughing at me.”

“Why would I laugh at you?” 

“Really?”  Seamus asked.  “I would’ve thought my reputation would’ve preceded me. I’m not sure that a ‘hot-headed Irishman with a tendency to blow things up’ is quite who parents would have in mind to teach their children.  Even if I didn’t accidentally traumatize my students the first day, can you imagine the owls that Hogwarts would receive?”

Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek.  “I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself.  I think you’re great with explosions—and I think the accidental ones are less a reflection on you and more an indication that not all is right with your wand.”

“You’re too kind.”  Seamus said before leaning over and kissing her lightly. 

 “So kind that you might consider studying for another hour before dinner?”  Hermione asked hopefully as she broke off their kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman.”  Seamus groaned.

“We could go flying after dinner?”  Hermione offered as a compromise.

Seamus stared at her. “You hate flying.”

“True.”  Hermione acknowledged.  “But, I like you.”

Seamus decided he could live with this arrangement and he followed her back inside.

~


	11. As Winter Approaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! I own nothing! :-)

The rest of the week passed by rather uneventfully. Apart from unfruitful research into the fates of Dub, Dothur and Dian, Hermione and Seamus alternated between studying and actively not studying.  Seamus was determined to ensure that Hermione enjoyed her last year at Hogwarts—whether she wanted to or not.  For her part, Hermione was hell-bent on making sure Seamus actually did more than survive his N.E.W.T.S curse or no curse—much to the general amusement of everyone else. 

So far, they’d discovered that Seamus could easily defeat Hermione in Wizards’ Chess—something that irked the brunette witch to no end.  However, she was surprisingly good at Exploding Snap, despite never having played.  Seamus had claimed beginner’s luck, but Dean had no qualms about rubbing it in his face repeatedly.   Hermione also admitted that she’d initially avoided the game because she thought it had been developed as an insult to Professor Snape.

When they weren’t stuck indoors, due to inclement weather—or Hermione’s insistence that they actually do work for a change—Seamus insisted that Hermione practice her flying.  Hermione, of course, had argued that it was unnecessary when Floo Powder, Apparation and Portkeys all existed as alternate modes of efficient transportation.  Seamus had countered with it was better to be safe than sorry.  _Besides, hadn’t she enjoyed it the last time?  Of course, if she was scared, he’d completely understand._

Hermione knew that Seamus had baited her on purpose, but she’d never been one to turn down a challenge.  Perhaps her inner competitiveness was part of being an only child.  If so, then being an only child himself, Seamus could certainly relate.  _It was probably part of why he’d mounted the challenge to begin with_ , Hermione had grumbled to herself.   _Well that, and competition was a language that they both easily understood_ -albeit, Hermione much preferred to compete in the classroom.

Even so, Hermione had to admit, the more she practiced, the more confident she was becoming on a broomstick.  Certainly, she had no desire to race it around the grounds like a madwoman, but she was no longer clinging to the handle for dear life once her feet no longer touched the ground.  Seamus had even been able to convince her, along with many other Gryffindors to play a recreational game of Quidditch.  Hermione had opted to play chaser and had found that she quite liked it.  She wasn’t necessarily good at it, but it was still fun.  She was starting to understand why Harry and the entire Weasley family enjoyed the sport.  Although, she told herself that she’d never be quite as obsessed as any of them.  Nor, would she tell Ron or Harry about her newfound appreciation.  She knew that neither one of them would let her live it down.  Then again, it wasn’t like she had talked to the former much lately.

Ron had seemingly gone out of his way to avoid Hermione.  Admittedly, with Hermione being away at school, it wasn’t that difficult.  Yet, his letters—which had previously come infrequently, at best—were now nonexistent.  On one hand, Hermione welcomed the absence of the often awkward correspondence.  On the other, she found herself longing for the camaraderie that had previously existed between them.  Relationships gone sour were notorious for ruining friendships.  Sure, Hermione wasn’t upset anymore.  Why should she be?  She was at Hogwarts, pursuing her studies alongside other friends and one very stubborn boyfriend.  She certainly wasn’t pining over Ron.  That didn’t stop her from missing their friendship, however.  You didn’t just forget about seven years of forged memories together.

In Ron and Harry’s absence, Hermione realized that, while perhaps not meaning to, she hadn’t given her fellow Gryffindors nearly enough credit over the years.  She’d always been grateful for their help, but she’d been so busy trying to save the wizarding world with Harry and Ron that she’d inadvertently ignored most everyone else.  Sure, she’d always known that Neville was rather adept with Herbology—minus the mandrake fainting event.  What she was more surprised about was how good Dean was with Transfiguration or how Parvati was particularly talented with more than one complicated charm.   At times, the other girl was more adept than even Hermione—something she found herself rather struggling to accept.

As the week passed, Hermione found herself growing particularly close to Parvati.  The more she talked with the other girl, the more she regretted not having had more female friendships at Hogwarts.   Previously, she had written Parvati and Lavender off as tiresome and a bit fickle.  Now, she knew that she had been wrong.  Hermione had already made her peace with Lavender earlier in the year.  Now, she was starting anew with the rest of her fellow Gryffindors. 

Despite her professed dating expectations, Parvati was actually very down-to-earth.  Half the things she said were more to garner a reaction than anything else.  Hermione realized that it was part of what made Parvati and Dean a good match.  Although both would give you a lot of grief in the moment, there was no real malice behind either’s words.  

Hermione also realized that having spent most of her time with Lavender, Dean, Neville and Seamus, Parvati knew Seamus better than most.  It was why Hermione often sought her counsel. Parvati didn’t judge, just listened and gave input when it was requested.  Hermione learned soon after that Parvati was hoping to become a healer.  Hermione had a strong feeling that the dark-haired witch would be well-suited to it once the time came.  Hermione also realized that maybe she didn’t want to be a healer after all.  Parvati had a gift of patience that Hermione felt herself lacking.  For someone who always had a plan, Hermione was starting to feel rather adrift about her own future.

She had temporarily put thoughts of her future out of her head.  She and the rest of the Gryffindors had been actively researching defense spells.  Draco had procured a few of the less dangerous books from the Malfoy library and the five Gryffindors, plus Theodore and Draco had spent the last afternoon poring over them.  Between the seven of them, they had come up with about a dozen different spells.  Half were if whatever came out of Seamus’ wand had a corporal form.  Another two were if whatever it was more heavily resembled a poltergeist.  The last four were to trap wisps of smoke or anything else non-descript that they were able to extract.

By Friday, Hermione had received two letters.  One had been a very apologetic correspondence from Harry.  The other had been a rather inquisitive one from George.  The former had felt terrible that their last meeting had been a bit awkward and yes, he had known that bringing Ron might’ve been a bad idea.  He’d just wanted the two of them to make a bigger effort to be in each other’s lives.  Of course, now, he recognized that it was strictly between Ron and Hermione.  He would be friends with both of them, no matter what they decided.  He had also expressed hopes that Seamus and Hermione’s search for a solution to the curse was going well.

Hermione had smiled at the first part of Harry’s letter.  While good-intentioned, Harry tended to be a bit oblivious when it came to emotions.  Certainly, he didn’t obliviously stomp over anyone’s feelings like Ron had the tendency to do.  Yet, because he’d had a decided lack of family growing up, Harry expected people to be much more willing to look past conflict in the name of friendship.  Unfortunately for Harry, his two closest friends were equally stubborn.   Hermione made a mental note to reach out to Ron for the sake of their shared acquaintance.  _If he didn’t respond, well then that was on him_.  She decided before turning to the rest of Harry’s letter.

_Finally_ , Hermione thought as she read.  Harry had sought Hermione’s advice on how best to propose to Ginny.  He decided that he’d waited long enough and with a stable job in hand, he really didn’t have any solid reason not to.  Hermione had rolled her eyes at his last line.  _More like you’re head over heels for her and have finally realized that if you don’t ask her now, she might curse you to all seven hells_ , she’d thought.  She’d written back, suggesting that he take her out for a nice dinner, then maybe a leisurely evening broomstick ride and afterwards, perhaps he could use the snitch he’d caught during first year to house whatever ring he selected for her and have it slide open just as he popped the question.  She also recommended that he owl Parvati if he was looking for additional recommendations.  _Yes, that would do_ , Hermione decided, as she sent her response back quickly.

Next, she eyed George’s letter. No doubt the elder Weasley was curious how her date had gone. She pried the seal off the letter and began to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Seamus, huh?  Never would have pegged you for a girl who liked explosions.  This especially given how many times you threatened to report Fred and me to our mum over the years—and we never lost our eyebrows, thank you very much. Hopefully, he conveyed my thanks for your charm.  It’s been working very well.  Already managed to prevent at least five first years from taking full advantage of the firecracker section._

_I know Ron has been a right git lately, but know that you’re always welcome to visit the Burrow over the holidays.  I’ll even throw in a few freebies from the shop, in case you’d like to properly prank darling ickle Ronniekins.  I’ve got a few new concoctions that I’ve been meaning to test out and I do believe my brother would be an excellent, albeit unwitting, candidate!_

_The rest of the family misses you.  Mum told me to tell you that she gave Ron the equivalent of an in-person Howler when she found out about his cheating on you.  I wasn’t there, but Ginny says it was bloody terrifying.  (She stayed for the whole thing, but Mum made her put the popcorn away.)_

_I hope your date with Seamus went well.  If it didn’t, well I’m sure something could be arranged there too.  He’s looking a little shorter these days.  You haven’t given him any reverse Skele-Gro lately, have you?_

_Anyway, don’t be a stranger!_

_Cheers,_

_George_

Hermione smiled, wanting to visit George as soon as possible.  She hadn’t relished the thought of visiting the Burrow over the winter holiday, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss the rest of Ron’s family.  She hastily penned a response, promising to pop in for a few days over break and assuring George that her date had gone well, lest he take it upon himself to prank a certain Irishman.

~

By Saturday morning, everyone was anxious to visit Hogsmeade.  Even Dean and Seamus—who were by no means morning people—had gotten up much earlier than absolutely necessary.  The only one who had been reluctant to awaken had been Neville. 

He had mustered up the courage to ask Hannah Abbott to Hogsmeade yesterday.  Neville had single-handedly killed Voldemort’s right-hand snake, but somehow, that didn’t seem to have made talking to girls any easier—especially girls he liked.  By the time morning rolled around, Neville was already having second thoughts.

“Are you sure it’s not too late to cancel?”  Neville had asked when Dean and Seamus set about dragging him out of bed.

“ _Yes._ ”  Seamus and Dean had chorused before marching him directly into the showers without his wand and magically locking the door behind him.

The commotion apparently had traveled across the hall to the seventh-year girls’ dormitory.  Parvati and Hermione tutted behind them.  “What are you doing?”  Hermione finally asked once Seamus and Dean were turned back around.

“Keeping Neville from becoming his own worst enemy.”  Dean answered.

Hermione looked questioningly between the remaining Gryffindors.

“Neville invited Hannah on a double-date with Parvati and me this afternoon.”  Dean explained.  “However, he’s trying to weasel out of it at present.”

Hermione’s expression grew puzzled.  “But, Neville likes Hannah.”  She said slowly.

“Boys aren’t known for their ability to be logical.”  Parvati reminded her, staring directly at Dean and Seamus as she spoke.

“Hey, I asked you out.”  Dean defended.

“Eventually.”  Parvati reminded him. “And Seamus had to be practically prodded prior to procuring a date with you.”  She looked at Hermione.

“Careful, you don’t turn into McGonagall with all that alliteration.”  Seamus deadpanned.

“It would be an honor.”  Parvati retorted.  “Besides, thanks to her, we didn’t act like a bunch of babbling, bumbling band of baboons at the Yule Ball, now did we?”

“Speak for yourself.”  Seamus said, eying Dean.

“I always do.”  Parvati said primly as she led Hermione back to the girls’ dormitory to finish getting ready.

~

Later that afternoon—after Neville had been practically frog-marched to meet Hannah for their double-date—Hermione and Seamus stood talking with Draco on the edge of Hogsmeade.

“Okay, you two go get the leech juice, beetle eyes and hawthorn from suppliers in Diagon Alley.  I’ll head to Knockturn Alley and get adder’s fork and witches’ mummy.”  Draco was saying.  “Meet back here in an hour.”

“Is it really going to take that long?”  Seamus wondered aloud.

“Have you ever dealt with Misters Borgin and Burke?”  Draco wanted to know.

“I’m not even sure Mr. Burke is alive.”  Hermione interrupted.

“Yes, well, Mr. Borgin is no walk in the park either—and he has dozens of reasons to hate me.”

“Then shouldn’t we go instead?”  Seamus offered.

“If he has dozens of reasons to hate me, I guarantee he has hundreds to hate you.”  Draco looked pointedly at Hermione before she could interrupt again.

“He was less-than-pleased to see us the last time.”  Hermione mused, thinking of when she, Harry and Ron had last set foot in Borgin and Burkes.  It had not been a pleasant experience.

“What about me?”  Seamus asked.

“What about you?”  Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he’s never met me and I’m not exclusively Muggleborn.  Sorry, Hermione.”  Seamus looked over in apology at the brunette witch who was currently looking a bit put out at the whole situation.

“He’s not a fan of Half-Bloods either.”  Draco said.  “Actually, he’s really not a fan of anyone.  He’s a rather loathsome individual.  Perhaps that explains why he and my father used to get along so well.”

Hermione bit her tongue at that.  Privately, she wondered how Lucius Malfoy was faring these days.

Seamus—who had never had the distinct pleasure of meeting Malfoy Senior—remained silent.

“Fine.  Meet back here in an hour.”  Hermione repeated.  With that, the wizards and witch apparated to their assigned locations.

~

As Draco had expected, his time in Knockturn Alley was proving rather unenjoyable.  Many of the unsavory types who frequented the shops here had been fervent supporters of Voldemort.  The only reason that they remained free was sheer cunning.  Most of its frequent inhabitants had not stepped forward until after the Ministry had fallen to the Dark Lord—making it that much more difficult for the newly assembled Ministry to gather proof of their prior involvements.  Either way, Knockturn Alley was not a place that many deigned to visit.

“Well look who it is,” drawled an unfriendly voice as Draco entered Borgin and Burkes.   

“Good afternoon Mr. Borgin.”  Draco returned, eying the older man haughtily.

“Don’t be getting that tone with me boy.  What errand has your rat of a father sent you on today?  Perhaps he’s found some other dark things no longer suited to his newfound lifestyle of charity and goodness?  Doesn’t matter what he gets rid of, his hands will never be clean.”  Mr. Borgin’s words came out in a hiss.

“I’m not here on behalf of my father.”  Draco met the caustic shop owner’s eye.  “I’m here for my own interests and am looking for witches’ mummy and adder’s fork.”

Mr. Borgin wheezed.  “Oh yes, have quite a surplus of those here.  Anything to help the _noble house of Malfoy._ ”

“If you don’t have it, don’t waste my time.”  Draco bit back.

“Awfully brazen aren’t we, now that there’s no prospect of death looming around every corner.  Of course, there’s still Azkaban.”  Mr. Borgin remarked carefully.

“Obviously, you don’t have what I’m looking for. Pity.  I would’ve paid good money too.”  Draco shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave.

“Wait.”  Mr. Borgin commanded sharply.  “Witches’ mummy I have.  Adder’s fork, you may have to go to Cobb & Webbs or, perhaps the Coffin House.  Although, one has to wonder, what does a young, traitorous fool like you want with decidedly dark ingredients.  Not trying to bring Voldemort back to life, now are you?”  He asked, trying to disguise his intrigue.

“Hardly.”  Draco scoffed, but provided no additional details.  

“Suppose we’ll all find out eventually.”  Mr. Borgin said as he rang Draco up.  “The Malfoys were never much good at keeping secrets.”

Draco remained silent and with his purchase now in hand, he headed to Cobb & Webbs to complete his shopping list.

~

Comparatively, Seamus and Hermione had a much more pleasant shopping experience.  A quick run through Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary and their list was complete.  They apparated quickly back to Hogsmeade, toward the Three Broomsticks, to wait for Draco.

“So, if we start brewing tonight, how long until the potion’s ready?”  Seamus asked as the two sipped their butterbeers.  

“Thankfully, since the Mandrakes are mature, it won’t take nearly as much time as we’d thought previously.  We should be able to complete brewing by the end of January.”  Hermione said.

“ _The end of January?_ ”  Seamus stressed.  “That’s longer than I’d thought.” 

“Draco said a few months.  When he’d said December, he’d forgotten that it’s already November now.  That might also be why he suggested you revisit the known curse remedy.”  Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“Oh good.”  Seamus sighed.  “I really hope you’re right about this whole wand theory of yours.”

“Me too.”  Hermione agreed. _Although,_ a tiny voice reminded her, _perhaps it won’t be needed after all_.  Not bloody likely, Hermione reminded her inner self.  Given their limited dating experience, neither Seamus nor Hermione was comfortable with moving particularly fast.  Besides, even if they had been, you don’t just fall in love with someone immediately.

~

“So, that’s it?” Seamus wanted to know.  He and Hermione watched as Draco added the final touches to the now-brewing potion.

“That’s it.”  Draco echoed.  “And, mind your distance.  Some of those ingredients were not cheap and I will not have you ruining a perfectly good potion with one of your ill-timed explosions.”  Draco said matter-of-factly.

The three were inside the Astronomy Tower. Hermione and Draco had carefully prepared the potion (with permission from McGonagall) while Seamus had only been allowed to watch.  Seamus had not been happy about it, but because of his earlier promise to Hermione, he had been forced to clue the Headmistress in on his current plight.  She had been rather sympathetic and had allowed them to brew their potion—provided that Mr. Finnigan was not allowed near the cauldron.   She had also agreed to conduct some research of her own.

“You think I _want_ to ruin the potion?”  Seamus asked indignantly.

“No.”  Draco said calmly.  “But, I do think your track record speaks for itself.”

Seamus looked at Hermione, hoping for back up that he did not get.

“He’s got a point,” Hermione said instead.

“Gee, thanks for the support.”  Seamus said dryly.  “Well, I guess now we wait.”

Once satisfied that the potion was well-prepared, Draco wandered off, presumably back to the Slytherin dormitory.  If he had guessed that Hermione and Seamus were an item, he certainly hadn’t said anything.  Hermione decided that he probably had, but was saving whatever mocking he had left for a rainy day.  She led a still-sulking Seamus back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

~

Back in the Common Room, Seamus was pacing.  With each turn, his stomping grew progressively louder. After about the thirtieth time, Hermione looked up from her Transfiguration textbook.

“Will you sit down?”  Hermione finally asked.

“Can’t.  Thinking.”  Seamus responded as he continued to pace.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “And you can’t do that without plodding back and forth?  The carpet doesn’t muffle everything you know.”

Seamus turned sharply.  “Sorry, didn’t realize you had a monopoly on what goes on in the Common Room.”

Hermione sighed heavily.  “What’s wrong?”  She asked, but Seamus had gone back to his pacing without answering her immediately.

From across the room, Dean nudged Neville.  “Ooh, watch out. Lover’s quarrel ahead!”

Neville waved him off, preferring to study his Herbology textbook.  They had an essay due in a few days and for once, Neville was determined not to wait until the last minute.  Dean, on the other hand, was content to sit back, snack on sweets and watch what he hoped would be girl drama that for once he was not on the wrong end of.

“You’re no fun.”  Dean sulked.

“Don’t you have an essay due too?” Neville reminded him.

“Yeah.  Due next _Thursday_.”  Dean stressed.

“No, it’s due this Thursday.”  Neville consulted his planner to make sure.  “Oh, nevermind. You’re right.”  He said, closing his textbook in relief.

“But we do have a Transfiguration essay due Monday.”  Dean continued, nonchalantly.

“What?!  Neville started to panic until he saw Dean’s smirking face.  Neville promptly threw his planner at Dean in exasperation.  “That’s not funny!”  He said.

“ _I_ thought it was hilarious.”

Neville rolled his eyes.  “You think everything is hilarious.”

“Want a chocolate frog?”  Dean offered.

“Fine.”  Neville accepted Dean’s offer rather huffily.

“Hannah seemed to have a good time earlier.” Dean mentioned casually.

Neville took longer than absolutely necessary to chew his chocolate frog.  “I suppose she did.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Parvati said that Hannah told her she was hoping you’d ask her again, just the two of you.”

Neville blushed.  “She did not.”  His expression grew hopeful, however.

Unfortunately, he and Dean were interrupted from further discussion as Hermione and Seamus’ conversation grew more heated.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if the potion were actually going to be ready soon!”  Seamus was saying.

“I told you it would take a while!”  Hermione defended.

“Oh and thanks so much for defending me when Draco practically screamed that I was disaster prone.  I got into advanced Potions didn’t I?” Seamus shouted.

“I just thought it would be better if we minimized possible risks.”  Hermione started.

“Oh, so I’m a liability now?  Everybody watch out, exploding-Seamus coming through!”  Seamus was growing progressively redder.

“Will you stop for one minute and listen to yourself?”  Hermione stared at him incredulously.

“I know what I’ve said!”  Seamus shouted indignantly.  “I’ve been very patient and have sat back and let you and Draco call the shots, but I’m tired of waiting, especially when we don’t have much by way of definite answers and time is running out.  Excuse me for wanting to play a more active role in my own plight.  I’m so sorry that my thinking is inconveniencing you!”  He stomped off into the corridor.

“Seamus!”  Hermione ran after him.  “That’s not what I meant.” _Great,_ she thought.  She supposed this was how Ron felt whenever Hermione lashed out at him for being emotionally insensitive.

~

“Seamus!”  Hermione shouted from behind the blue-eyed wizard.  “I’m sorry.”

Finally, Seamus stopped and turned to face Hermione.  The two were several feet past the Gryffindor portrait.  “I’m just tired of waiting.  Who knows if there’s even anything in my wand.  This whole thing could be for nothing.  Plus, the ‘cure’ might not even work anyway since it’s probably not even Carman.  Or, maybe it is.  I don’t know.”  His shoulders sagged and whatever anger he’d had seemed to have faded.

Hermione sighed tiredly.  “I know.  I’m sorry.” She sat next to him under a portrait of three pigs having tea.

“It’s just, I trust you, you know?”  Seamus said. “But, that doesn’t make this curse any less real.  The more that you and Draco do, the less in control of my own fate I feel.  Right now, thinking about Dub, Dian and Dothur is all I can really contribute and even then, I’m turning up a whole lot of nothing.  I don’t know what happened to them.  For all I know, they don’t matter in the slightest.”

Hermione nodded.  “I didn’t mean to exclude you.  I just got so caught up in wanting to help, that I got a bit of tunnel vision. You’re right though.  My solution may be wrong.”

“It might be, but knowing you, it probably isn’t.”  Seamus said resignedly. “I’m just not doing well with the not knowing.”

“Me either, honestly.”  Hermione admitted.  “And, I’m sorry about earlier. Neither of us meant that you were incompetent.  If anything, I think your wand is responsible for more of the goings on than you yourself.  However, since the potion takes so long to brew, it just seems like a good idea to minimize the number of people around it to avoid potentially having to remake it.”

“So, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”  Seamus asked.

“Same as all of us.  Look up histories and figure out how we’re going to get rid of whatever’s in your wand once it gets out.”

“Assuming there is even something in there.”  Seamus returned skeptically.

~

Weeks passed and the Gryffindors still found themselves no closer to a solution.  Draco had rifled through the books in his possession, but had also found no trace of Dub, Dian and Dothur.  Seamus wondered if perhaps the wizarding library in his hometown would offer more assistance.  He was saying as much to Hermione as the two were sat in the library.  Outside, a light snow was falling and Seamus was privately wishing that his upcoming exams would quietly disappear.  He had enough to worry about without them.

“Well, you could always investigate and let me know what you find.”  Hermione responded without looking up from her Charms text.

“We both know it would go much faster if someone else were to come with me.” Seamus continued.

Hermione still hadn’t looked up.  “Well, I’m sure you and Dean will have plenty of luck.”  She mused.

Seamus frowned, wondering if she was being deliberately obtuse.  “Hermione, I was inviting you to spend part of the holidays with me.”  He clarified tentatively.

Hermione looked up and was about to respond when she was interrupted.

“How’s the studying going?”  Neville asked the two of them as he sat down at their table. 

“Great.” The two echoed simultaneously.

Neville looked from Hermione to Seamus, sensing that he’d interrupted something.  “Er, okay.  Well I just came by to see if you would want to take a break later today.  I think some of the other students have planned a snowball fight once there’s enough on the ground.”

Seamus nodded and Hermione made a noise of indecision. 

“It’ll be fun.”  Neville prodded.  “Besides, the Charms exam isn’t for two days.”

Hermione laughed.  “You’ve been hanging around Dean for too long.”  She noted.  “Two days really isn’t that far away.”

Seamus rolled his eyes.  “Hermione, you could probably recite that stupid textbook cover-to-cover if you wanted to.”

Hermione shook her head.  “Flitwick is more interested in applications. I really need more practice.”

Neville groaned suddenly.  “If _you_ need more practice, I’d hardly hold out hope for the rest of us—except for maybe Parvati.”

It was Seamus’ turn to groan, albeit internally.  _Now you’ve done it, Neville_ , he thought.  _We’re never going to leave this infernal library at this rate._ He glared at Neville.

Hermione nodded.  “I really need more practice.”  She said, apparently having ignored everything that came before the Parvati comment.

“Neville, I think it’s almost lunchtime.  How about we meet you in the Great Hall in a bit?”  Seamus asked.

Neville, seeming to appreciate the offered exit agreed quickly.

Once he’d left, Seamus turned to Hermione.  “What do you think?”  He asked again.

“Wouldn’t your parents mind?”  She asked curiously.

Seamus scoffed.  “Hardly.  Do you know how much food my mum makes?  I truly think she could give Molly Weasley a run for her money. The only difference is that there are far fewer immediate family members to eat it.  I will warn you that my extended family is a bit er intense.”  Seamus said.  “They’re a little old-fashioned and have been after me to bring a girl home for a while now.”  He looked a bit uncomfortable with his last admission.

Hermione only laughed.  “Well, I have survived worse.”  She mused.

“Is that a yes?”  Seamus asked hopefully.

Hermione pretended to consider.  “Well, my parents are in Australia and don’t really expect a visit from me over winter break.  I do have to pop into the Burrow for a few days or the same Molly Weasley might have my head—or at least Ron’s because she’ll immediately blame him for my absence.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”  Seamus said, attempting to be straight-faced.

“Stop that.”  Hermione mock-glared at him.  “Ron means well, most of the time.”  She half-defended.

Seamus stuck out his tongue in response. “So, is that a yes?”  He asked again.

“You promise they won’t mind?”  Hermione asked.

It was Seamus’ turn to laugh.  “You’ll be lucky if they let you leave after meeting you.”

“Should I be worried?”  Hermione asked.

Seamus shook his head.  “Not in the slightest. Now will you agree to spend a couple of days in Ireland?  I’d hate for our study session to devolve into me repeatedly asking you the same question.”  He winked mischievously.

“You’re shameless, you know that?”  Hermione muttered.

“And you know that poor Neville is waiting for us in the Great Hall.  It would be quite rude of us to keep him waiting.”  Seamus responded.

“You’re not going to start packing up until I give you an answer, are you?”  Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blue-eyed wizard who was smirking back at her.

“Nope.”  Seamus grinned.

Hermione sighed dramatically. “Alright.”

Seamus’ grin widened as he finally packed up.  “Wonderful.  Shall we go to lunch then?”  He asked, taking Hermione’s arm like someone out of the Regency period.

Hermione snorted, but walked with him willingly nonetheless.  “You’re ridiculous.”  She muttered as the two walked arm-in-arm.

“Says the one who has made me study all morning.”  Seamus returned cheekily as the two reached the Great Hall.

Hermione shook her head.  “You liked it.”

“Nope.”  Seamus returned.  “But, I will probably appreciate it when exams come due. The company’s not bad either.”  He smiled, realizing how ridiculous the two of them looked and not particularly caring.

~

Unsurprisingly, course exams had been kind to all.  However, favorable results had not been enough to dissuade McGonagall from warning them not to get too lax in their studies.  N.E.W.T.S. were thusly named for a reason, she had reminded them before sending them off.  Moreover, her students should expect future Transfiguration exams to mimic their upcoming N.E.W.T.S.  This, of course, had been accompanied by a chorus of groans. 

Hermione and Seamus had decided that she would spend the first couple of days with him in Ireland, before journeying to the Burrow for Christmas.   It was the first day of her trip and neither had wanted to waste any time.  They’d apparated their trunks to Seamus’ house, but had themselves gone straight to the local library.

Hermione was rifling through what had to have been her fifth book of the afternoon when something stopped her.  A sallow-faced man with sunken cheekbones stared back at her.  His brown eyes were glassy and beady.  _Darkness or the Irish ‘Dub’ found his way to America well before it was named such.  Many scholars blame his arrival for periods of prolonged drought now documented by the geological record.  Muggle scholars, however, are content to attribute this period to meteorological shifts, including continued movements of the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ).  He lived in relative peace among the indigenous peoples until the same realized that he was the source of their troubles.  He was executed and buried underneath a red oak tree sometime later._

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, but continued to read. _Little is known of his brothers, Evil and Violence.  It is thought that the former’s boat sunk in a tempest and that his corpse remains pinned at the bottom of the sea.   It is also thought that Dian or Violence was successful in his return trip to Italy, where he founded Pompeii.  He would live there in relative solitude for the next 500 years, until the locals frustrated him. He facilitated rage and malcontent among the people he had grown to loathe.  Once this rage had bubbled over, he directed it away from the people and toward the nearby volcano.  Unfortunately, he too was caught in the aftermath.  It is believed that his is one of the many nameless bodies encased in plaster at the now-historical Pompeii site._

Hermione nudged Seamus.  “You should see this.”  She whispered. 

Seamus paled as he read.  He was halfway through the page when something else caught his eyes.

_These three brothers are a trinity of evil.  United, the three are nearly unbeatable.  Divided, the three are subject to the same tragedies that befall human and wizarding kind. This author estimates that the three could be brought back to life, but whoever would wish such a thing surely must not be entirely human.  They cannot be controlled and they operate on their own agenda.  Once united, only very strong magick can bind them—a magick not seen since the days of Carman and the Tuatha De Danann._

 “Bet old Voldy wishes he’d seen this.”  Seamus muttered.

Hermione shook his head.  “You read the same thing that I did.  They don’t bend to just anyone’s will.  I highly doubt that a half-blood would be able to persuade them to follow him.”

“But their purposes would have aligned.”  Seamus argued.

Hermione shuddered.  “Best not to think about that.  On the upside, I think we know who’s in your wand.”  She said grimly.

Seamus looked at his innocent-looking wand.  He hadn’t used it since the beginning of the year.  Now he was finding himself rather appreciative.  “We’d better head to my place before my parents start to worry.  My mum has been owling me non-stop ever since you agreed to visit.  She’s excited to meet you.” He said instead.

“Alright,” Hermione agreed, “I’ll owl Draco and the others tonight.  If we want to keep Dub from attempting a grand old family reunion once-released, I think we’re going to need a lot more defense spells in our arsenal before the end of January.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to spritgnome1 for being awesome and indirectly motivating me to get on the stick. I'm sorry if time seems a bit rushed in this. In hindsight, I regret making the potion require so much time to brew. Expect things to pick up a bit more once the potion is ready. In the meantime, the next chapter will probably be a little fluffy as Hermione meets Seamus' parents and spends time at the Burrow. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Meeting the Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay - especially to Spritgnome1 who has been super patient with me. This chapter is long, but not necessarily *super* plot heavy. Anyway, I hope you like it!
> 
> As per usual, I own nothing except the mistakes! :-)
> 
> P.S. The Finnigans know that Seamus and Hermione are dating. They just refer to her as his friend because that's what they do. (I modeled this after older members of my own family who designate boyfriends and girlfriends as "friends" until someone puts a ring on it.)

By the time Seamus and Hermione made it back to the Finnigan’s residence, it was nearing dinner time.  After engulfing Hermione into a giant hug, Mrs. Finnigan directed the two of them to the sitting room where Liam was engulfed in a sporting event of some sort. 

“Now, I’ve made pork and champ, I hope that’s okay.  Hermione, do you like potatoes?  I didn’t think to ask Seamus if there was anything you didn’t like.”

Hermione smiled.  “I like anything.”  She said appreciatively.

Mrs. Finnigan beamed. “Wonderful!  Well, dinner should be ready soon.  I’ve just put some bread in to bake and the oven should go off any minute.”  She waved them over to the couch where her husband was thoroughly engrossed in the latest sport action and still hadn’t looked up.

Hermione couldn’t quite make out the details until they got settled.  It was only then that she realized that Seamus’ dad was watching football.

“It’s the fourth round of the Tennent’s Irish Cup.”  Seamus muttered. He eyed the teams at the top.  “He doesn’t follow either one of these, but if it’s anything sport-related, he’ll watch it.”

Hermione snorted.  “Sounds about right.”  She decided that her own father had probably spent at least some time in front of the television earlier that day.  Mr. Granger had a tendency to fall asleep in front of the television.  In his retirement, he’d become particularly fascinated with golf.  Although, more often than not, he had fallen asleep before the main players had even teed off.  Of course, when caught, Hermione’s father had always insisted that he’d simply been resting his eyes.

Seamus’ dad finally noticed that he was not alone in the sitting room when the couch moved as Hermione and Seamus sat down.

“Seamus!  Good to see you!”  Liam nodded at his son before turning to Hermione.  “And this must be Hermione.”

Hermione nodded. 

“Wonderful, nice to meet you!” Liam continued.  “So, Hermione.  Seamus says that your parents are non-magical.  Do they follow sport at all?” 

Seamus shot Hermione a wry grin as if to signify that he expected such a line of questioning. 

Hermione shrugged.  “Sure.  They follow football pretty heavily and I’ve even gotten them interested in wizarding sport.”

“You mean Zaditch?”  Mr. Finnigan asked curiously before Seamus interjected.

“It’s Quidditch, Dad. Quidditch.”  He repeated.

“Ah, well. I knew it was a funny letter.” Liam turned back to Hermione. “My son here is borderline obsessed with that infernal broomstick game. Although, I think if you added flying to anything, he’d probably be obsessed with it.  His mum bought him a kiddie broomstick when he was barely a toddler.  You’d sooner wash a cat than get him off that thing willingly.”  Mr. Finnigan shook his head.

Seamus blushed in embarrassment. “I wasn’t that bad.”  He defended.

“Oh no?”  Mr. Finnigan challenged.  “The only reprieve we got was when you accidentally left it outside and one of the goats tried to eat it.”  He laughed.  “Poor Mary about died when your toy fought back.”

Hermione giggled.  “Was that the end of the broomstick?”  She asked.

“No, but it never did fly right after that.  Then again, I’m not sure old Mary was all right in the head after that either.  So, I suppose it evened out. Got Seamus a proper broomstick not too long after that—although he was only allowed to ride it when Margaret went with him.  Called him her mini-me for a while.  It was a bit awkward though when he was little.  Boy refused to get a haircut and the way I hear it, Margaret got lots of compliments on her ‘cute little girl.’” 

“Dad!”  Seamus said suddenly.

Seamus’ dad laughed and turned to Hermione.  “I think the summer before Hogwarts was the first time we convinced him to go with a shorter-haired look.”  He turned back to Seamus.  “I told you that would come back to bite you one day.” 

Seamus muttered something about that day not necessarily needing to be today.

“I’m sure you made a very pretty girl.”  Hermione snorted as Seamus’ ears grew pink.  

“Honestly, I expected this from Mum.”  Seamus muttered a bit louder.

“I raised you too, didn’t I?”  He asked. Even so, Mr. Finnigan apparently had decided that he’d embarrassed his son enough for the time being and turned back to Hermione.  “So, other than Quidditch, what do you follow?”

Hermione paused to think.  “Well, my American cousins live in Chicago.  So, they follow most of the local teams out there.  Although for reasons unbeknownst to me, they seem to prefer the Green Bay Packers over the Bears.  Apparently, that’s something akin to sacrilege out there.  Then again, I don’t follow American sports super closely.  I do know that they feel the need to call ridiculously early in the morning to celebrate whenever their teams do well in the postseason.  As for football, I grew up in London, but tend to follow Tottenham Hotspur.  Both of my parents are borderline obsessed.  They tell people they met at a dentists’ convention.”  Hermione whispered conspiratorially.  “Really, though, they met at a fan club meet up.”  She groaned suddenly.  “My father’s car is probably still plastered with ‘You’d look right in lilywhite’ bumper stickers.”

“Dinner’s ready.”  Seamus’ mum interjected.

Seamus’ father laughed appreciatively.  “See?  It’s not just me Margaret.  Everyone has their teams.  Glad your parents don’t support Manchester United.”  He said as an aside to Hermione.

Hermione noticed that Seamus’ mom had come into the sitting room just then.

Seamus’ mother groaned, ignoring his last comment.  “I’d still like to be able to see out the back window of your truck when I drive it now and again.”

“That’s what the side mirrors are for.”  Liam reminded her.

Seamus cleared his throat before his parents could get any further. “So, you said dinner was ready?”  He asked his mum.

Relieved, Seamus’ mom nodded and the rest of them followed her to the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you could visit, dear.”  Mrs. Finnigan was saying to Hermione as she served another helping of casserole onto Hermione’s plate.  “Seamus talks about you in his letters.  I have to say, I can see why he likes you.”

“ _Mum._ ”  Seamus hissed as the four continued their dinner.

Liam nudged his wife.  “I may have gotten a head start on embarrassing our son.”  He smirked.

“Complimenting his friend is hardly embarrassing!”  Maggie scoffed at her husband.  “Anyway, Hermione. I’ve made up the guest room for you.  There are fresh towels on the bed and the bathroom is just down the hall.  Seamus can show you after dinner.”  She nodded at her son.  “Hogwarts sent over your term grades this afternoon. I had to get my glasses because I thought my vision was going.  You got an ‘O’ in charms?!”  She repeated incredulously.  “I’m so proud of you!”

At this Hermione had to bite her tongue from laughing at Seamus’ pained expression.

“Mum, you act like I’ve never gotten an O in my life.”  Seamus said.  “I’m not a terrible student.”

“Oh, Seamus, I didn’t mean it like that!” Mrs. Finnigan turned to Hermione conspiratorially.  “He gets decent grades — E’s and A’s, mostly, but he’s so much like his father, what with his never wanting to study. I’ve told him if he just buckled down and studied once in a while, his grades would be even better—but don’t mind me, I’m just his mother.”  She shook her head as Seamus shrunk in his seat.

“What happened to you being proud of me?”  He asked, feigning annoyance.

“I am!” Mrs. Finnigan insisted.  She looked back at Hermione with a sudden realization.  “Was this your doing?  Seamus says you’re at the top of your class. I’ve been trying to get him to study for years, with no luck.”  She trailed off, shaking her head again.

Liam raised an eyebrow at his wife.  “Maggie, I believe the circumstances were a bit different.”  He winked at Seamus who reddened.

Mrs. Finnigan only seemed slightly put out.  “Well, either way, I can’t wait to tell the rest of the family.  I’m sure they’ll be just as proud.”  She trailed off as if remembering something. 

“Oh heavens!” Seamus’ mom said after a short silence, causing everyone at the table to jump.  “I completely forgot that your Aunt Áine wanted to have everyone over tomorrow night. I haven’t had any time to put anything together.  The Christmas cake has only been sitting for two weeks and it needs three to be properly ready!”  She looked frantically between her husband and son.

Seamus groaned.  Áine was the eldest of his mom’s sisters and although never having settled down herself, she lived vicariously through others.  She was also rather judgmental.  Every time she ever invited the family over there was always the casual _, no, you needn’t bring anything—_ followed by a condescending glare had anyone been so silly as to actually take her at her word.

Liam didn’t seem particularly bothered.  “So, tell her you can’t make it.”  He shrugged and helped himself to a biscuit. He wasn’t a fan of his wife’s oldest sister.  Margaret’s other siblings were fine, but he could do without Áine’s shrill lectures and her five cats that were always underfoot.

“I can’t just say that. I already agreed to come earlier in the week and I know she’d want to see Seamus and meet Hermione and…”  Seamus’ mother began rambling frantically.

“Maggie, if you don’t want to go, just tell her something came up.” Liam said.

“You could say one of the animals got sick or something,” Seamus offered helpfully.  He didn’t necessarily dislike his aunt, but he did feel rather guilty about potentially subjecting Hermione to his family much sooner than anticipated.

Apparently, Hermione didn’t feel similarly. “I could help you bake something else if you wanted?”  She offered kindly.

Mrs. Finnigan brightened.  “Oh, Hermione!  How sweet!”  She grew tentative.  “I couldn’t ask that of you.  You just got here.”  She said, more to herself than to Hermione.

“Nonsense,” Hermione reassured her.  “You’re hosting me.  The least I can do is be helpful.  My parents are dentists, but I grew up baking.  My mom’s favorite was a chocolate shortbread biscuit recipe her mom passed down to her.”

“Oh that sounds delightful!”  She looked at her only son.  “Seamus, you’ll help too, won’t you?  If we get started tonight, you can show Hermione around town before we go to your aunt’s tomorrow night.”  She said.

~

“Just how many things are we making?”  Seamus asked exasperatedly.  He turned longingly to the sitting room, where his father was relaxing and watching television. 

“Oh just a few things.”  Mrs. Finnigan said noncommittally.  

Seamus eyed the vast array of ingredients on the countertops skeptically.  “It looks like more than a few things.”  He began warily.

“Well, I was thinking about making a meringue and those cookies sounded good.  Plus, I just found a good recipe from Witch Weekly that I’ve been dying to try…”

Just then, the telephone rang and Mrs. Finnigan rushed to answer it.  Seamus and Hermione could only make out her end of the conversation. “Hello?  What?  Oh, no! Not again.  Yes, we’ll be right there.  No, no.  Don’t worry about it.  Yes, we’ll see you soon.”

Seamus eyed his mother expectantly once she replaced the receiver. 

“That was your Uncle Ferguson.  One of his cows has managed to get itself stuck in the iron gate.”  She paused and shouted over the television.  “Liam, did you hear that?”

“Sounds like a stupid cow.”  Mr. Finnigan didn’t look up from his game.

“ _Liam_.” Mrs. Finnigan stressed. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” He stood up and grabbed his coat.  “Tell me again why you can’t just magic the thing out of the fence?  Or, why your brother can’t just saw off part of the fence like last time?”

“You know as well as I do how easily spooked cows are.  Do you want it to just run back into the fence once it’s freed?”  Seamus’ mother asked, very matter-of-factly. “Plus, you know my brother just had knee surgery.  He’s supposed to be taking it easy this week.”

“And Esme can’t do it?”  Mr. Finnigan asked.

Mrs. Finnigan rolled her eyes. “Esme can’t be more than eight and a half stone soaking wet.  You really expect her to single-handedly free a cow?”

“Honestly, it’s the middle of winter.  What on earth is a cow doing that close to the fence anyway?”  Liam wanted to know.

Mrs. Finnigan shook her head.  “I haven’t the slightest.”  She turned back to Hermione and Seamus.  “I’m sorry to rush off like this.  We shouldn’t be gone long.  Seamus, why don’t you show Hermione around?”  She turned back to her husband.  “Liam, turn your cell phone on in case Seamus needs us while we’re gone.”

Mr. Finnigan shook his head.  “I hate that thing.  Can’t you just owl them or something?” He wasn’t a huge fan of Wizarding World practices, but he really hated Muggle technology sometimes.  So, every now and again, he was willing to support wizarding innovation above the Muggle world.  This was one of those times.

“That seems rather silly if we’re only going to be about 20 kilometers away or so.”  Mrs. Finnigan argued.

“Mum, Dad. Just go take care of the cow.  I’m sure Hermione and I will manage just fine here.”  Seamus said, exasperatedly.

“Come on, Maggie.  There’s supposed to be a storm later this evening and I’d like to be back home before it hits.”  Liam said impatiently.

With one last look to her son and Hermione, Mrs. Finnigan followed her husband outside.  A few moments later, Hermione and Seamus heard the faint roar of a truck coming to life and speeding away.

“Well, that was eventful.”  Hermione said.

Seamus shook his head.  “Sorry, it’s not normally like that.  My parents really like you, if you couldn’t tell.”  He said as he led her upstairs.

“I’m glad. I hope the cow is okay,” Hermione said.  She paused in front of a picture hung on wall.  “Is this Fergus?”  She asked, staring at a picture of what looked to be a younger Seamus and a taller, darker-haired wizard.  The older wizard was holding a giant fish and looking quite pleased with himself.  Younger Seamus was busy glowering at the camera.

Seamus followed Hermione’s gaze.  “Yep.  I couldn’t have been more than 13 when Fergus’ dad took this picture.  Fergus is a pureblood, but his dad was really taken with fishing for whatever reason.  He used to take us on weekend trips all the time during the summer.  I remember that summer though.  Fergus and I had made a stupid bet on who could catch the biggest fish.   This was around mid-July.  His dad had taken us to Lough Owel in County Westmeath. We must’ve fished well into the night.  I never caught anything bigger than the fish Fergus is holding there though.”

“That explains why you look rather put out.”  Hermione grinned.  “So, what were the terms of this bet you and Fergus made?”  She asked.

At this Seamus looked a bit uncomfortable.  “I’d really rather not say.”  He said, attempting to change the subject.

“Oh, come on.  It can’t be that bad.”  Hermione persisted.  We all make stupid bets.  It’s part of being a kid.

“I’ll tell you on one condition.”  Seamus decided.

“What’s that?  Swear to never tell a soul?”  Hermione laughed.

Seamus smirked.  “No.  If I tell you the terms of the bet, then you have to tell me something embarrassing about yourself.”

Hermione grinned.  “Well, I suppose your parents have done their best to embarrass you earlier.”

Seamus groaned.  “I told you this visit would be worse for me.”

Hermione shrugged.  “They love you.  I’m sure if we were to visit my parents, they’d regale you with stories of my childhood.”

“Oh really?”  Seamus looked intrigued.  “Were you just adamant about your schoolwork then?”

“You mean, was I an insufferable know-it-all then too?”  Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“I didn’t say that!”  Seamus defended.

“Ah, but you were thinking it—even if you were too polite to say it!  And, the answer is, yes.”  Hermione grinned. “But, enough about that.  Supposing I agree to your terms, what was the bet you and Fergus made on that trip?”

Seamus groaned.  “I was 13 and stupid.”

“As opposed to 18 and stupid?”  Hermione giggled.

“Hey!  Do you know want to know the terms of the bet or not?”  Seamus asked testily.

Hermione grinned and nodded.  She followed Seamus to the guest room, taking in the soft blue walls and giant four poster bed in the middle of the room.   “This is really nice.”  She breathed, taking in the giant bed and chest of drawers opposite it.

Seamus nodded. “Some of this furniture has been in my family for ages.  I think the chest of drawers dates back to the late 1800s.  Anyway, you said you wanted to know about the bet?”  He asked as he sat beside her on the bed.  Neither noticed as outside, a gentle snow began to fall.

Hermione nodded.

“Well, like I said, I was 13 and just beginning to notice girls. I guess you could call me a late bloomer in some respects.”  Seamus shrugged.  “Anyway, that didn’t stop me from running my mouth.  Fergus knew I was full of it and called me on it.  He said whichever one of us lost would have to volunteer for the community car wash in nothing but his underwear.”  Seamus grimaced.  “Did I mention that it was a community car wash that was organized by the varsity cheerleaders at the local high school? Or, that I was a very scrawny, pasty kid? It was awful.  The only consolation was that I didn’t actually go to the school.  After about an hour, Fergus had pity on my soul and threw a pair of shorts at me.”  Seamus shook his head. “It’s a small town, so everyone, including my parents heard about it.”  He shuddered. “I was very grateful to be back at Hogwarts at the end of summer.”

Hermione gasped for breath.  “I can’t believe you took that bet!” She said in-between her laughter.

Seamus protested. “I thought I would win!  Besides, like I said, I was 13 and stupid.  Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, it’s your turn.”

“I’m not sure I can beat that,” Hermione admitted.

“Well, I’m not letting you off that easily.”  Seamus said. “Time for an embarrassing story from you.”

Hermione sighed as she wracked her brain.  “Well, you already know that both of my parents are Muggles.  So, I didn’t grow up around magic.”  She started.  “Although I was really excited to receive my letter, I was also very nervous. I didn’t know anything about the rules associated with Underage Magic—and I figured that everyone else would be well-practiced and that I’d be quite behind.”

Seamus grew concerned.  “You didn’t?!” He asked in mock horror.

“Oh, but I did.”  Hermione said, the faint traces of a smile etched across her lips. “You don’t think I just mastered the levitation spell on my first go, do you?”

Seamus shrugged.  “I wouldn’t have put it past you.”  He admitted.

“Well, I didn’t.  I’ve never even told Harry and Ron this.”  Hermione continued.  “But, one day, I decided that I could do with some practical experience.  While my parents were at work, I decided to practice.  It was rather convenient because my neighbor had an annoying habit of allowing his great beast of a dog to use my mother’s flower bed at the front of the house as his own, personal bathroom.  This happened nearly every day and both of my parents were too nice to make a big fuss about it.  My mom would just dutifully clean it up whenever she noticed that it was a problem.”  Hermione took a breath while Seamus listened.  “It so happened on the day I decided to practice, who would come up the walk but that same neighbor with his annoying dog.  I charmed the dog’s business to follow the two and deposit on the neighbor’s front porch.  He actually stepped in it as he was taking the dog inside.  To this day, he still has no idea how it happened.”  Hermione sighed.  “I wish I could say that was the end of the story.  Of course, it wasn’t.  Not five minutes later, Ministry Officials show up at my doorstep, demanding to see my parents and threatening to revoke my letter.  Instantly, I was a bawling mess.  They probably would’ve kicked me out too had Dumbledore not shown up and calmly explained the situation to them.  They let me off with a warning.”  Hermione sighed, “although at that time, Cornelius Fudge hadn’t been overwhelmed with paranoia like he was by the time Harry was caught performing underage magic.”  She shook her head.  “That was another case entirely.”

Seamus shook his head.  “Wow. I didn’t think you had it in you.  Granted, aren’t you the same Hermione who punched Malfoy third year?”

Hermione blushed. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Seamus grinned.  “To hear Ron and Harry tell it, you’ve got a nasty upper cut.”

“It’s woefully out of practice.”  Hermione smirked.

Seamus laughed.  “Well, even still I don’t plan to be on the receiving end of it. Which reminds me, I should probably show you the rest of the house, shouldn’t I?” 

Hermione shrugged.  “I’m sure I can find the bathroom in a pinch.”

“Who says I was going to show you the bathroom?  My room is next door.  Come on.”  Seamus all but dragged her off the guest bed.

Once they made it to Seamus’ room, Hermione was overcome with the sheer number of Quidditch posters adorning the walls.

Following her gaze, Seamus grew slightly sheepish.  “I haven’t updated the décor since I was about 15 or 16.”  He admitted.

Hermione nodded.  “Somehow, I think we all had more important things to worry about.”  She took in the rest of his room.  There was a wide window taking up most of outermost wall.  On the opposite side, there was a bed.  To the right of the door where she stood, there was a small writing desk with several framed photographs.  Some were Muggle photos and others were clearly magical.  Hermione saw Seamus standing with his parents on what was probably his first day of Hogwarts.  She realized that much like her parents, Seamus’ dad probably didn’t get to watch the official send off and had had to rely on accounts from Seamus and his mother. She felt a pang, remembering her own first day and how she’d been alone, waiting for the Hogwarts Express.  _At least Seamus had had his mother with him_ , she thought to herself as she took in the remainder of the photos.  There were more of Seamus with Fergus and Seamus with some others who she didn’t recognize.  She wondered if they were nonmagical friends or cousins.  She bit her lip as she saw a familiar face.  It had to have been taken last year.  There, staring back at her was Seamus smiling happily, his arm draped around Lavender.  Her expression was happy and carefree.  The two seemed to be laughing at some shared, inside joke. Instantly, Hermione felt something churn in her stomach.  “I think I’ll look for that bathroom about now.”  Hermione darted out of the room without further explanation.

Seamus followed her gaze and his heart sank.  He’d forgotten about that picture.  When he went out to the hall, he noted that Hermione had successfully found the bathroom.  He knocked softly.  “Are you okay in there?”

“Yes.”  Came a muffled reply.  “Think I overdid it at dinner.”

Seamus nodded before realizing that she couldn’t see him.  _Idiot_ , he cursed internally.  “Do you want to talk when you get out?”

Moments later, he heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water.  Suddenly, he was face-to-face with a rather flustered looking Hermione.  “Sorry.”  She said quickly.  “Stomachache.”  She explained.

Seamus shook his head.  He wasn’t stupid.  “What’s wrong?” He asked even though he suspected he already knew.

Hermione shrugged.  “It’s nothing,” she said as she stared at the floor.

“Mmhm and I’m Slughorn’s favorite student.”  Seamus said seriously.

Hermione sighed.  “I just feel out of place here.  Lavender should be here, not me.”  She said, still not looking at Seamus.

Seamus didn’t seem surprised at her confession.

Hermione didn’t ask how he’d guessed the source of her anxiety, but she followed him back to his room where they sat on his bed.  “I just.”  Hermione started, but couldn’t get the words out.  “I’m not her.”

“And no one ever said you had to be.”  Seamus finished gently.  “Lavender was a big part of my life, but I’ve moved on.  I haven’t forgotten her, but I’m not sitting here, pining away for her either.  You’re my girlfriend, unless of course you don’t want to be.”  He added quickly.

Hermione realized that she was getting caught up in her emotions, but found herself unable to stop.  “No, no.  I do. I don’t want you to think of me as a rebound or as Lavender 2.0 or…”  she rambled on.

Seamus caught her arm and pulled her toward him, engulfing her into a tight hug.  “I don’t think that.”  He whispered in her ear softly. 

“But you loved her.”

“I did.”  Seamus agreed.

“She was your first girlfriend.  I can’t compete with that.”  Hermione said, attempting to break away from Seamus’ hug.  

“No, you can’t.”  Seamus agreed again.  “Which is why you shouldn’t—compete that is.”  He clarified.  “Lavender was Lavender and you are you.  Each of you have things that make you wonderful, but you’re different people.  I’m not comparing you to her—and I really hope you’re not comparing me to Ron or that Bulgarian dude.”  Seamus attempted a rather poor impersonation of Viktor Krum.

Hermione laughed in spite of herself.  “I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am breaking down at a picture and you’re comforting me.  What’s wrong with me?”  She asked.

“You’re human, same as any of us.”  Seamus pulled her tighter against him.  “I’ll never be Ron either. Not that I’d necessarily want to be him.”  He said, trying to lighten the mood.  His breath felt warm against Hermione’s cheek as he continued. “If I were him, I might’ve gotten to share in some of your earliest Hogwarts memories—but I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now. I might also be the world’s biggest prat.”  He added, mostly as an afterthought.  “I still remember that Padma wanted to beat him upside the head after the Yule Ball catastrophe.”

Hermione uttered what sounded like a hiccup in response. “He’s not _that_ big of a prat.”  She said.

“Ah, but it made you laugh.”  Seamus defended. “Before she left, Lavender reminded me that first loves don’t have to be the last.  Just because I fell in love with Lavender doesn’t mean I won’t fall in love with someone else any more than it means you’ll forever be hung up on Ron Weasley.”  Seamus said.

“I’m not hung up on Ron.”  Hermione defended.  “But, it’s a different situation.”

Seamus shrugged.  “Yes and no.  It’s different because of how it ended, but it’s not different in the sense that both are over.  We didn’t necessarily choose things to end up the way they are, but they’ve happened all the same.”

Hermione took a long look at her boyfriend.  “When did you get so wise?”  She asked curiously.

“Probably about the time I started getting shorter by the month.”  He grinned.

Hermione laughed and shook her head.  “No, it was probably before that.  I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”  She smiled, feeling better.  _I could love him one day_ , she found herself thinking.  Of course, she didn’t know that similar thoughts were running through Seamus’ brain. 

She found herself changing the subject abruptly.  “Want to get a head start on the baking?  Your mum might be pleasantly surprised if we get the cookies done ahead of time.  I got the sense she wanted to work on the Witch Weekly recipe herself.” Hermione asked.

Seamus mussed her hair before kissing the top of her head.  “That was a fast turnaround.”  He breathed.

Hermione shrugged.  “You’re surprisingly comforting.”  She said.

“I’m not sure how to take that.”  Seamus feigned confusion.

“Take it as a good thing.”  Hermione smiled at him.  “You’re a great guy, you know.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”  Seamus returned.

Hermione gestured to her watery eyes.  “I’m sure this is really attractive.”

“Very.”  Seamus agreed.  “It’s right up there with my singed eyebrows.”  He winked.

Hermione was puzzled.  “They’re not singed.” 

“Not _now_ they’re not.”  Seamus clarified, but they were for our first date—or don’t you remember?”

Hermione shook her head as she realized that she hadn’t noticed.  _Emotions are funny things_ , she decided.

“Well, there’s your answer then.”  Seamus smiled reassuringly. “By the way,” he continued, “we can definitely get a head start on baking but,—just so you know—if we do, my mum might never let you leave.”

~

The next hour went by fairly fast. The two were lined up at the counter.  Having already prepared and chilled the dough, the two were carefully rolling balls of dough onto the cookie sheet.  Hermione had whisked her hair up in a makeshift ponytail to avoid it getting in the way.

“I wish I’d gotten to know you sooner.”  Hermione said after a comfortable silence had passed.

“Why?”  Seamus wanted to know.

“Don’t know, just didn’t realize how far removed I was from everyone else until this year when there was no Harry or Ron to talk to on a constant basis.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I wish I had talked to you sooner as well.  Maybe you could’ve convinced me not to pick a fight with Harry over Ministry allegations.  My mum still feels terrible about that ordeal, although she’ll never say it.”

Hermione sighed.  “She shouldn’t feel bad.  A lot of the Wizarding World believed the Ministry’s lies.  As for you, would you really have listened if anyone other than Harry had set you straight?”  She asked curiously.

It was Seamus’ turn to sigh.  “I’d like to say yes, but we both know that would be a lie.  I’m a bit stubborn.”  He admitted. “Then again, I’m not the only stubborn one around here.”  He eyed Hermione meaningfully.

“I never said I wasn’t.”  She prepared to load the cookies into the preheated oven when the kitchen lights flickered.

Seamus groaned and looked outside.  Sure enough, what had started as a light dusting had evolved into a full-fledged winter storm.  “Something tells me the power isn’t going to last long at this rate.  Our back-up generator is a bit spotty.  Let me go find some flashlights in case the power goes out completely.”

Hermione nodded.  “I’ll see if I can get a little baking done while you do that.  I’m sure we can always finish the job with magic if need be.”

“Okay.”  Seamus returned as he set off in search of flashlights and hoped to high heaven that any flashlights he found contained batteries with a decent charge to them.  He headed back to the front room, toward the coat closet.  To the right, sat a piece of older wood furniture. The top drawer usually held candles, matches and the like.  The swing out door below it usually contained at least one or two giant flashlights.  Seamus celebrated internally as he saw that at least one of the flashlights worked.  He decided not to bother finding batteries for the other one at the moment.  He closed the swinging door and headed back to the kitchen.  As he did, a loud clap of thunder shook the house.  He nearly jumped.  The lights flickered a bit longer this time before finally succumbing.

“Thundersnow!”  He heard from the other room.

“Hermione?”  He called tentatively. 

“In the kitchen.”  She returned.  When Seamus reached her, he found her staring out the kitchen window excitedly.  “I’ve read about this!”  She said excitedly.  “It’s relatively rare, actually.”

“What?”  Seamus asked.

“Thundersnow. There’s an American meteorologist—Jim Cantore—who’s borderline obsessed with the phenomena.  Anyway, I’ve done some light reading about it.  Basically, snowstorms and thunderstorms tend to be characterized differently.  Like, a thunderstorm typically consists of big, thunderhead clouds with strong updrafts—which is how you sometimes end up with golf ball-sized hail.  Clouds associated with snowstorms tend to be much shallower.  Thundersnow happens when there’s almost a hybrid between the two.  Like, the flat snow clouds become less flat in some areas.  It’s kind of like when a thunderhead cloud has an overshooting top that projects into the stratosphere—the next level of the atmosphere—thanks to exceptionally strong updrafts or upward winds in the cloud.  For thundersnow, this upward development happens if there’s some sort of additional lifting mechanism in place.  For example, I’m sure you’ve seen pressure bars on those maps when forecasters are presenting the weather.  Usually, those lines are isobars, where they denote regions of equal pressure at a given level.  Depressions in isobars are considered ‘troughs’ and humps in isobars are often considered ‘ridges.’ At upper atmospheric levels, a trough could bring colder air aloft.  Add this with the pre-existing tendency for air to cool and expand as it rises and you end up with a shallow, unstable layer immediately above the snowstorm cloud and,” Hermione caught herself as she stared at Seamus’ slightly glazed over expression, made more dramatic by the flashlight he was holding that was illuminating his features.  She blushed.  “Sorry, I got a little excited.”

Seamus shook his head.  “No, that’s really cool, actually.  I won’t pretend like I understand it all, but keep going.”

Hermione felt her blush growing.  “Well, the long short of it is when cool air overlays warm air—since rising air will continue to rise so long as it’s cooler than its surrounding environment—you get instability, which is conducive to thunderstorms.  So, you end up with snow and a thunderstorm in one system. It’s pretty cool!”  She exclaimed.

Seamus whistled appreciatively as another clap of thunder echoed in the background.  “Is there anything you don’t know about?”  He asked curiously.

“Well, as you saw earlier, I’m not that great with emotions.”  Hermione admitted.  “And, I don’t know much about old curses or dark magic.”

“Or detecting rhetorical questions.”  Seamus finished as he tugged on her ponytail teasingly.  “As for being good with emotions, neither am I really.”

“Well, I guess we have that in common then.  Hermione said softly.

“I guess we do.”  Seamus said, leaning in for a kiss.  They were interrupted as the front door opened with a bang and two figures stomped in. Well, one figure stomped, the other seemed decidedly calmer, albeit tired.

“Feck, I hate bloody cows.  Overgrown eejits, the lot of them.”  Mr. Finnigan stomped in, quickly followed by Mrs. Finnigan.

Hermione nudged Seamus.  “I see where you get your temper from.”  She whispered.

Seamus disguised a chuckle as his dad came closer. 

“Seamus!”  Mr. Finnigan called.  “Why didn’t you hit the circuit breaker already?”  He asked impatiently as Mrs. Finnigan shut and locked the door behind them. 

“Lights only just went out.”  Seamus responded.  “Did you get the cow?”  He asked curiously.

“Dratted thing got its stupid head stuck in the gate and with the temperatures dropping it nearly froze like that there.  Uncle Ferguson and your mom ended up having to resort to magic—which, of course went over about as well as expected.  The minute the cow was free, she ran straight for the barn.  Did I mention that in addition to not being very bright, cows aren’t very coordinated?”  Mr. Finnigan sighed heavily.  “Anyway, we finally got the cow sorted.  Are there Murphy’s in there?”  He asked hopefully.

Seamus checked the kitchen.  “No, I think we’re out.”

Mr. Finnigan muttered something else unintelligible, while Seamus went to check the circuit breaker.

“Oh, Hermione!”  Hermione hadn’t noticed that Mrs. Finnigan had made it to the kitchen.  Mrs. Finnigan glanced at the cookies that Hermione had magically finished earlier.  “These look lovely.  Thank you so much for doing this!  I had no idea getting the cow would take so long and in this weather no less.  I didn’t think we would make it home, but between a few extra spells on the truck and Liam’s determination that we would sleep in our own beds tonight, we made it.”

“It wasn’t just me.  Seamus and I both worked on them.” Hermione said quickly.

Mrs. Finnigan smiled knowingly.  “I can guess whose idea it was to work on them though.”

Hermione blushed, but didn’t deny it.

“I may not be able to make tea the Muggle way right now, but I can conjure up a few servings, if you’d like.”  Mrs. Finnigan offered.

Hermione nodded.  “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”  The two sat at the kitchen.  Mr. Finnigan joined them not too much longer, after he’d finished what appeared to be another rant about the never-ending stupidity of farm animals.  Realizing there was no beer to be had, he too settled for tea.  He smiled at Hermione apologetically as he did so.  “I guess this is not what you had in mind when you came to visit.”  He started.

Hermione shook her head.  “Not really, but I’d say I got the better end of the bargain.”  She smiled.

“I’d say so too.”  Mr. Finnigan snorted, but seemed to visibly relax.  “I don’t know if our cows are smarter or we just have a better set-up here.  Either way, we’ve fortunately been spared that situation here so far.”  He said as he sipped his tea.

Mrs. Finnigan nodded.  “I’m just glad that ordeal’s over with.”  She sipped her tea.  “I hate to be a poor hostess, but I think I may turn in early tonight.”

A few minutes later, Seamus rejoined the group, but the power remained out.  “Looks like the power’s well and truly out.”  He announced glumly.

“All the better for an early start tomorrow.”  Mrs. Finnigan decided.  Mr. Finnigan nodded in agreement. 

After Seamus’ parents headed up to bed, Seamus and Hermione were left alone in the kitchen as the storm raged outside.

“Maybe we should head to bed too?”  Hermione asked tentatively as she finished her tea and set about washing her empty mug.

Seamus grabbed her hand before she could commence scrubbing the mug.  “Don’t worry about the dishes.  I’ll take care of them in the morning.”  He said as he gently placed the unwashed mug in the sink. “Upstairs?”  He asked as he shone a light toward the stairs.

Hermione shrugged.  “If you’re sure.”  She said before following Seamus upstairs.

~

Neither Hermione nor Seamus were particularly tired.  So, they opted to lie atop the fully made guest bed until they got sleepy.  Seamus figured it would be easy enough for him to go into his own room before he got too tired.  The only adjustment they’d made to the bed was that they’d replaced the fancy “for show” pillows with the more reasonable pillows that they could actually sleep on.

“Thanks for having me here.”  Hermione said as a flash of lightening briefly illuminated the room.  She curled up on the right side of the bed, facing Seamus. 

“It might be that I should be the one thanking you.”  Seamus stared back at her, smiling.  “Would you believe that I haven’t thought about the curse much since we got back here?”  He asked.

Hermione instantly felt guilty as she thought back to earlier.

Seamus watched her expression fall and quickly clarified. “No, I just meant it’s been nice being here with my parents and with you.  Things—as hectic as they were tonight—actually felt the most normal they’ve felt in a long time.”

Hermione smiled at this and inched closer to Seamus.  “I’m glad then.”  She said.

Seamus wrapped his arm around Hermione and she found herself nestling against him, as they faced each other.  With his free hand, he grabbed a throw that had been lazily draped over the entirety of the bed and pulled it atop the two of them.  Warm and relaxed, it was only a matter of time before they fell asleep.

~

When Liam got up at the crack of dawn the next morning, he noted that both the doors the Seamus’ room and the guest room were wide open.  Seamus’ bed looked unslept in—which left one option.  He smirked as he walked past the guest room and saw their sleeping forms, atop another fully made bed.  _So much for staying up late_ , he thought to himself.  He was reminded of one of his earlier visits to Maggie’s parents’ place, back during their school days.  Smiling, he carefully shut both doors and headed downstairs to get started with his day. 

He doubted that his wife would care that the two had fallen asleep together, but if Hermione was anything like Maggie, she might still appreciate the door being closed.  He smiled to himself as he prepared some coffee and set about feeding the animals.

~

Not more than two hours later, Hermione stirred awake.  When she woke, she was face-to-face with a sleeping Seamus.  Instantly, she panicked.  “Seamus!”  She practically shook the sleeping Irishman awake. 

“What?”  Seamus groggily protested.

“We fell asleep!” Hermione looked over at the clock on the wall.  “It’s just after seven o’clock!”

Seamus looked past Hermione.  “Well, at least you closed our doors last night.”  He said, obviously relieved as he snuggled back under the blanket.

“Me?!  I thought you did that.”  Hermione said.

Seamus laughed.  “Well, I guess breakfast will be interesting.”

Hermione paled considerably and Seamus felt slightly bad.

“Hermione, I was just kidding.  I highly doubt my parents will care. Us falling asleep in our clothes in a guest bed is hardly any different from if we’d fallen asleep together on the couch.  If anything, my dad probably thought it was funny.”

Hermione’s blush deepened.  “Even so, we’d probably better get up.  Do you have to do anything around the house today?”  She asked.

Seamus groaned.  “Probably.  I might’ve privately been hoping that your being here would get me out of a few things.”

Hermione swatted at him.  “Gee thanks.”  She said dryly.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, I was kidding.”  Seamus rolled his eyes.

Hermione sighed.  “I know, I know.  How about this?  We both get up, get dressed and I’ll help you with whatever you need to do.”

Seamus looked at Hermione appraisingly.  “That’s very nice of you and all, but have you ever worked on a farm?”  He asked. “You may regret that offer.”

Hermione shrugged.  “I’m sure I can handle it.”

~

“Ughhhh!” Hermione bit back the urge to curse as she accidentally turned the wheelbarrow the wrong way and a huge pile of soiled bedding from the goat barn nearly came crashing on top of her.  She jumped back instinctively and Seamus tried not to laugh.

“You were saying earlier?”  Seamus asked teasingly.   The two were mucking out the animal living spaces.  With the temperatures growing colder by the day, the goats, pigs and cows were spending even more time inside.  Unfortunately, that also meant that their living spaces were in need of more constant attention.  Worse, Seamus and Hermione had been gifted with the not-so-fun task of cleaning up after the goats.

Well, really, the task had solely been Seamus’. Seamus’ father had explained that Hermione didn’t have to help if she didn’t want to, but she had insisted.  Before returning to his own chores, Seamus’ father had shot his son a knowing grin.  And, as both had expected, Hermione had had no idea what she’d signed herself up for.

The good news was that the goat barn smelled considerably better than the cattle shed.  The bad news was that the small size of the goat droppings meant that machines would be of little to no use.  So, the two of them were tasked with sweeping up goat droppings and covering any wet spots with waste hay to absorb the moisture.   In theory, it had sounded relatively straightforward.  In practice, Hermione found herself growing increasingly frustrated.

“This stupid wheelbarrow won’t turn right!”  She practically shouted as Seamus began wordlessly sweeping up after the spilled wheelbarrow.

“You’ve just got to move with it—and you’re filling the wheelbarrow too high before dumping it in the pile out back.”  Seamus said.  “This is one of those times where slow and steady wins the race.”  He added helpfully.

Hermione sighed and cursed to herself again.

Seamus chuckled, noting how cute Hermione looked when she was frazzled.  “How about I take over?”  Seamus offered.

“No!”  Hermione said determinedly.  “I offered to help and I’m going to help if it kills me.”

Seamus shook his head.  _Yep, they were both definitely stubborn._ “Suit yourself.”  He said.  “Although, I’d prefer if it didn’t kill you.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and attempted to navigate the wheelbarrow once more. He watched in amazement as Hermione pushed the wheelbarrow out of the barn and dumped it in the proper spot.

Seamus clapped once she came back, complete with empty wheelbarrow. 

Hermione smirked.  “Told you I could do it.”  She said, very obviously pleased with herself.

Seamus raised an eyebrow.  “I never said you couldn’t.  Now, we only have to do that about 50 more times.”  It was his turn to smirk as Hermione sputtered.

“How about we trade off?  I’ll sweep, we both load and I’ll take the wheelbarrow out.  Then, while I’m doing that, you sweep, we load together and you take the wheelbarrow out.”  Hermione suggested.

Seamus shrugged.  “Seems fair.  I told you though, I really don’t mind doing this.”

“Could you do it faster without me?” Hermione asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

_Yes._ “No.”  Seamus said, wanting to preserve Hermione’s feelings.

Hermione laughed.  “You’re a terrible liar.”

Seamus shrugged.  “It’s more fun this way.”  He decided.  _Besides, practice makes perfect_ , he thought to himself.  _There was always a chance she’d be back for another visit—or two or three_. He smiled to himself at the prospect.  There was a part of him that was disappointed that his dad never let him use magic to do chores, but times like this, he didn’t mind so much.

“Well, you’re really nice to say so.”  Hermione said as the two of them reloaded the wheelbarrow and Hermione set out again.

Seamus had to admit that he was quite enjoying the view as Hermione pushed the wheelbarrow along. 

“I don’t hear sweeping!”  Hermione called behind her.  “Quit staring at my bum.”  She chastised.

Caught, Seamus reddened.  “I wasn’t staring!  I was keeping the goats out of the way.”  He defended weakly.  Most of the goats had ventured outside.  The few who had remained indoors had rather lazily congregated on the other side of the barn.

He could hear Hermione’s laughter from outside.  “Oh, you mean _these_ goats?”  She pointed teasingly at the small section of goats inside once she reappeared.

They both looked over to where the goats were sat.  At least two appeared to be asleep.” 

“They moved.”  Seamus defended.

“I see.” Hermione said, her eyes shining.

Seamus reddened.  He was about to defend himself further when Mrs. Finnigan interrupted them, to announce that breakfast was ready.

~

As Seamus expected, neither of his parents said anything about them falling asleep in the guest room.  After helping himself to a slice of soda bread, Mr. Finnigan looked between Seamus and Hermione.  “So, how’s the barn coming along?”  He asked with a grin.

“Good!”  Hermione said.

“Really?” Mr. Finnigan seemed surprised.

“It’s hard, but Seamus has been very patient.”  Hermione smiled as she poured herself another cup of tea.

“Patient?  Seamus?  I’m not sure those two words belong in the same sentence.”  Mrs. Finnigan laughed to herself.

“Thanks for the support, Mum.” Seamus said.

“Only teasing, Dear.  I’m glad the work is moving along nicely.”  Mrs. Finnigan continued.  “Hermione, if you get sick of working in the barn, you’re more than welcome to come inside.  I’m baking for tonight and I’d love to have some company.”

Hermione looked between Seamus and his mum, unsure of what to say.

Seamus seemed to sense her uncertainty.  “If you want, we can see how much further we get after another hour and go from there?”

Hermione nodded.  “That sounds good.”

Mrs. Finnigan also nodded.  “That’ll also give me a chance to start on these Witch Weekly recipes—and no witnesses in case things don’t go according to plan!”  Her smile widened.

“Well, I’m sure the pigs will be appreciative if something goes awry in your recipe.”  Mr. Finnigan said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Mrs. Finnigan pretended to swat at him.  “Liam!”  She chastised while Mr. Finnigan smirked.

“Only kidding, dear.”  He said as his wife shook her head, but continued smiling as the four of them finished up breakfast.

~

“How long have your parents been married?”  Hermione asked once the two were back outside, cleaning the goat barn.

“About 25 years.”  Seamus said.  “Why do you ask?”

Hermione shrugged.  “No reason.  They just really seem in love.” 

“They are. Like I said in first year, it was a bit of a nasty shock for Dad, once Mum told him she was a witch, but he got over it pretty quickly.  They have a good balance of magic and non-magic.  In case you haven’t guessed, we don’t use a lot of magic on a daily basis out here—but there’s still enough magic around that my mum certainly hasn’t lost her touch.  I don’t know.”  Seamus paused.  “My dad recognizes that magic is part of who my mum is—and my mum recognizes that my dad doesn’t necessarily like magic, but it’s mostly because he didn’t grow up around it.  So, they just make it work.”

“How did they meet?”  Hermione asked once Seamus returned from removing the latest load of goat droppings.

“One of mum’s classmates from Hogwarts was a Pureblood, but had had this neighbor who was always trying to ask her out.  Mum’s friend wouldn’t go unless her neighbor friend found someone to fix my mum up with too.  I don’t think she actually expected it to happen—especially since her parents were very against inter-mingling between Muggles and Pureblood.  Anyway, the neighbor—Ted, I think his name was—ended up inviting my dad to go along as my mum’s date.”  Seamus grinned.  “As you can see, it worked out pretty well.”

“What about your mum’s friend?”  Hermione asked.

Seamus’ smile faded slightly.  “Mum doesn’t talk about her much.  I think her name was Andromeda?” 

“ _Andromeda Tonks?_ ”  Hermione asked incredulously.

He shrugged.  “Maybe?  I don’t really know.  I’d have to ask.”

_Small world,_ Hermione thought to herself as the two continued to work.

Seamus and Hermione settled into a comfortable silence and it was only once the task was complete that they realized that it was past noon.

Seamus led Hermione inside for a quick snack and then promised that he could finish up the rest of his chores by himself.  By now, Hermione was a bit more tired than she’d wanted to admit, so she’d readily agreed.  Seamus had smiled at her knowingly, but hadn’t pressed the issue.  Once he’d disappeared back outside, Hermione turned to Mrs. Finnigan who was carefully mixing something by hand.  The delightful aroma of a baking casserole wafted leisurely through the kitchen.

“I’d love to help this afternoon, but would you mind if I took a quick shower first?”  She asked politely.

“Not at all!”  Mrs. Finnigan smiled warmly as she let her mixing bowl sit for a moment.  “There should be soap and shampoo in the guest bath.  If there isn’t, you can always steal some from the bottom shelf of the linen closet next door.  I usually keep some extra bath supplies in there, just in case.”

“Thank you!”  Hermione said, before heading upstairs.  Muscles she hadn’t realized that she had ached with each step.  Once she arrived in the guest room, she shut the door and carefully peeled off her outer layers of clothes so that she was left in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.  Sifting through her trunk, she selected a warm, flannel lined pair of jeans, a long-sleeved, pale pink top and a fluffy white oversized jumper.  Grabbing those along with underpinnings, socks, her toiletries and a towel, she headed toward the bathroom.

She was happy to note that there were plenty of soap and several options for shampoo.  She smiled upon seeing her favorite shampoo brand in there.  Privately, she wondered whether or not that was coincidental.  Not wanting to fog the mirror too badly, she undressed and started the shower.  Without waiting for the water to warm, she quickly jumped in. 

The water was predictably cold, but it warmed quickly and Hermione sighed in contentment as the warm water penetrated her weary muscles. Not wanting to keep Seamus’ mum waiting too long, she worked the shampoo into her hair for a quick lather and finished washing up.  It was probably the fastest—and yet, among the more relaxing showers—she’d ever taken.  Once she was done, she dried herself off and quickly applied a quick drying spell to her hair.  She swept it up into a messy bun, dressed and hung her towel on the provided rack.  After brushing her teeth and tidying up the bathroom, she grabbed her dirty clothes and placed them in separate compartment in her trunk.  Then, she threw on a second pair of boots—the first, she had left, discarded on the front porch since they were covered in a mixture of mud and snow—and headed downstairs.

~

“That was fast!”  Mrs. Finnigan said in surprise.

Hermione shrugged.  “I didn’t want to keep you waiting too long.”

“Oh heavens.  You’ve been hard at work all morning.  I could’ve waited a little longer.”  Mrs. Finnigan shot Hermione a warm smile that reminded her a bit of Molly Weasley.  “Now, you sit right there.”  She pointed to one of the kitchen chairs, next to which, a replenished cup of tea was waiting.  “I didn’t mean to imply earlier that you couldn’t handle the barn.  It’s just so rare that I get an opportunity to have girl time.  Between Seamus and my husband, I’m usually outnumbered here.”  She smiled as she turned back to a new dish. 

Hermione wondered if it was some sort of éclair.  While she took in the kitchen full of baked goods, Mrs. Finnigan continued.

“So, Seamus says you’ve been helping him with trying to figure out his curse.”

Hermione sighed heavily.  “Trying is the key word.”

Mrs. Finnigan shook her head.  “No, I have every confidence in you. I’ve combed through the records out here and talked to my brother Ferguson and his wife—they’re Fergus’ parents—with little to show for it.  You, Seamus and that Slytherin boy seem to be making more progress in the last few weeks than our family has made in a long time. Although, Seamus tells me it’s a different curse this time.”  She sighed tiredly.  “I don’t think he’s fully forgiven me yet for not telling him sooner.  I just didn’t think…”  She trailed off as she placed her latest concoction in the oven and sat opposite Hermione.

She tried again as she wiped her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve and attempted to recompose herself.  “It’s just I never meant for any of this to happen and Seamus—well, he’s stubborn.  It’s just so hard watching him try to navigate this thing, when there’s so little I can do for him.  I’m glad he’s not alone though.”  Mrs. Finnigan smiled at Hermione. “I know we barely know each other, but I think you’re good for him.”  She adopted a lighter grin.  “Heaven knows his grades have improved.”

Hermione laughed.  “That wasn’t all my doing.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure your being around didn’t hurt.”  Mrs. Finnigan changed the subject, as if comprehending that perhaps she was broaching a rather emotional topic with Seamus’ new friend.  “I’ve got a few pies I’d like to make. Would you want to help me with the filling?”  Mrs. Finnigan asked. 

“Sure.”  Hermione smiled, in that moment missing her own mother and wishing it had worked out for her to spend some time with her parents over the holidays.  Then again, her parents still didn’t fully understand the gravity of the recently-ended war.  They thought Hermione had just walked out of their lives for a year.  So, tensions remained high even though they exchanged letters fairly frequently.

Mrs. Finnigan seemed to read her thoughts.  “Tell me about your parents.”  She started gently.

Hermione sighed as she spooned some canned strawberries into a larger bowl. “Well, they’re both non-magical and recently-retired dentists.”  She started.  “They’re in Australia for now, but I think my mum misses some of her old friends in London.  So, they may end up moving back here in a few years.”

“Seamus mentioned you weren’t planning to visit them over the holidays.”  Mrs. Finnigan prodded as she worked on a blueberry filling.  Upon seeing Hermione’s expression, she stopped.  “I’m sorry, dear.  I didn’t mean to pry.”  She said quickly.

“No, it’s okay.”  Hermione reassured her.  “My parents have never truly understood the Wizarding World.  They’ve always been supportive of me and have wanted me to be happy—but, I never really told them about everything that started happening once Voldemort was well and truly back.  So, they just thought I’d abandoned them once things started getting dangerous. I never wanted them to worry, so I always downplayed things. When I didn’t return to Hogwarts for my Seventh Year, it was kind of the final straw for them. They assumed that I was giving up on my schooling, when really, I couldn’t have gone back if I’d wanted to—being Muggleborn and all.”

Seamus’ mother cringed slightly at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but her expression was sympathetic. “Living in two worlds is hard.”  She said as she spooned some of the filling she’d made into one of the homemade pie crusts she’d prepared earlier.   “I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I do know that when I started dating Seamus’ father, there was an adjustment period.  I was too nervous to tell him that I was a witch until after we were married.”

Hermione smiled softly.  “Seamus might’ve said something about that.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure he left out some of the more dramatic moments.”  Mrs. Finnigan smiled wryly.  “It took several conversations to get through to Liam.  At first, he thought I was pulling his leg and by the time he realized I wasn’t, he decided that he didn’t care.  Convincing his family,” at this, Mrs. Finnigan’s lovely features contorted into a grimace, “was another matter entirely.”

Hermione nodded.  “I can only imagine.”  She said sympathetically.

“You see, Liam’s parents are very, very devout Catholics—and they were unable to reconcile my being a witch with their beliefs.  They’d liked me well enough before they found out I was a witch.  Once they did,” Mrs. Finnigan shrugged dismissively.  “Well, that was another matter entirely.  Liam would never tell you this—I doubt he’s even told Seamus—, but his family all but disowned him after he informed them that he would not be seeking an annulment.”

Hermione felt herself speechless and Mrs. Finnigan seemed to sense this.  “Meanwhile, my own parents were pure-blooded and it took them a few years to come around—but they did.”  She sighed as she folded the pie crust atop the filling and sealed it shut.  “I’m not saying this to overwhelm you.  I’m simply justifying what you already know to be true. Forging the connection between the two worlds is difficult, but sometimes it works out.  It’s been nearly 25 years, but I still have hope that Liam’s family will come around like mine did.”

Hermione nodded.  “I think my family will come around eventually.  It’s just been hard lately.”

“Seamus doesn’t know, does he?”  Mrs. Finnigan inquired.

Hermione looked up at the older witch, in shock. 

“Don’t look so surprised.  I’ve a way of sensing things.  I may not know you that well, but I have a feeling that you and my son aren’t that different.  If I’m being honest, I think it’s a big part of why he sought your help in the first place.”  She smiled knowingly.

Hermione smiled back.  “I suppose you’re right.” 

Mrs. Finnigan turned to face the younger girl.  “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds—although, I likely already have—but, you’re always welcome to spend the holidays with us.  Seamus mentioned that you wanted to visit some of your other friends—and, perhaps, a few evenings full of loud Irish folk is not your cup of tea—, but I can think of several people who would love to host you.” 

Hermione blushed.  “That’s very kind of you.”  She said, slightly taken aback by Mrs. Finnigan’s generosity.

Mrs. Finnigan smiled, just as Seamus walked through the door, covered head to toe in mud.  “And there’s another one of them now.”  Mrs. Finnigan whispered quietly before turning her attentions to a very frustrated Seamus.

“Seamus, what on Earth?”  She asked, willing her features into a horrified expression.

“I was trying to fix the stupid trough by the pigpen and I slipped.” Seamus muttered. “I did fix it though.”  He added as an afterthought.

Mrs. Finnigan shook her head.  “Honestly.”  She muttered.  “Well, I’m glad you’re okay, but don’t you even think of walking in here like that.”  “She admonished.  “You will not be trailing mud all through my clean house.”

“ _Mum_.”  Seamus looked pointedly at Hermione.

Mrs. Finnigan rolled her eyes.  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Seamus.  I’m not asking you to walk in here naked. Just leave your outer layers outside.”

Seamus reddened and started to protest heavily.

Mrs. Finnigan smirked.  “If you can walk around in your skivvies at a community car wash, I’m sure you can make do here.”

“ _Mum!_ I was _13_.”  Seamus emphasized, as he gestured pointedly toward Hermione.

“Er, I can go upstairs for a bit, if that would help.”  Hermione offered.

“Actually, Mum, maybe you could show Hermione the old well outside?”  Seamus asked.

Mrs. Finnigan rolled her eyes.  “I’ll humor you because I love you, but just so you know, I’ve seen you naked.”

“ _Mum!”_ At this point, Seamus was a deep scarlet and Hermione was a cross between mortified and attempting to choke back laughter.

Deciding to spare Seamus further humiliation because clearly the thought hadn’t occurred to him, Hermione cast a quick cleaning charm.  Instantly, Seamus’ clothes were free from mud.  Although, his face and arms were another story.

“I was wondering how long that would take.”  Mrs. Finnigan snorted before looking at her thoroughly embarrassed son.  “How about you go shower and then _you_ can go show Hermione the rest of the grounds—and maybe take her on an informal broomstick tour.  Just, don’t forget a notice-me-not charm.  I don’t want to be receiving letters from the Ministry this afternoon.”  She noted.

Once Seamus was out of earshot, Mrs. Finnigan turned to Hermione with a grin on her face.  “You might want to make sure my son hasn’t died from mortification.”  She winked as Hermione headed upstairs to check on Seamus.

~

Hermione was sitting on Seamus’ bed when he reemerged from the shower.  He hadn’t realized that Hermione would be upstairs.  So, he hadn’t bothered to bring his clothes with him to the bathroom.  Instead, he entered his room with only a towel wrapped around his waist.  Upon seeing Hermione, he nearly jumped.  “What are you doing in here?”  He asked, surprised.

“Your mum felt bad about embarrassing you earlier.”  Hermione said, blushing as she noticed that his towel was riding suspiciously low on his hips.

Seamus shook his head.  “No, she didn’t—but that’s how I know she really likes you.  She’s never messed with me this badly with anyone else around.”   It was his turn to blush, when he noticed where Hermione was looking.

“I’m sorry.”  Hermione said, feeling a tad guilty.

Seamus raised an eyebrow, curiously.

 “That your mom embarrassed you earlier.”  She added quickly. “Not for—oh, never mind.”  Hermione finished, turning a bright shade of red.

Seamus shrugged as he shut the door and quickly tugged on a shirt.  Hermione turned her back to him so he could finish getting dressed.  “Don’t be.”  He said.  “I’m glad she likes you.  She doesn’t like just anyone, you know.”

“Well, then I’m glad.”  She smiled.  “Can I turn around now?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to turn around to begin with.”  Seamus noted with a smirk.  “I don’t mind _you_ seeing me naked.”

Hermione snorted.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  She said, smiling.

“Please do.”  Seamus said cheekily.  “Now, can I talk you into a broomstick tour this afternoon before you get subjected to the rest of my relatives?”  He asked curiously.  He pulled Hermione up from her seated position on his bed and grabbed his broomstick from the closet.

“I suppose.”  Hermione said smiling.  “If you don’t mind me occasionally cutting off your circulation.”  She amended teasingly once they were outside.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”  Seamus grinned while Hermione quickly performed an invisibility charm.  He kissed her lightly before helping her onto his broomstick.  Once she was situated, he settled in behind her and away they soared.

~  


	13. Meeting the [rest of] the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry! I swear, I’m not dead…just drowning in never-ending amounts of schoolwork. Basically, from midterms to finals, it’s been crazy—and I still have another two weeks to go before the semester is over. I will do my best to update more frequently once school’s out and my internship starts up. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented. You all are awesome! 
> 
> As usual, I own nothing but the errors. :-)

~

“This is ridiculous!”  Hermione said, mostly to herself as she paced about the guestroom in a knee-length dress and sensible flats.  She was growing increasingly frustrated when Seamus finally looked up from his seated position on the bed.

“Hermione, for the last time, you look fine.”  Seamus said as Hermione folded her arms.  “Besides, it’s just my family.  You’re not dining with the Minister of Magic and you’re not about to deliver a speech on world peace to the Pope.”

Hermione turned to eye Seamus’ unkempt hair jealously.  While she’d spent the last hour attempting to charm her hair into a less tangled mess and braved a battle with her eye pencil, Seamus had been napping.  Only in the last ten minutes had he bothered to throw on a collared shirt and decent pants. _Truly, life wasn’t fair sometimes_ , Hermione thought to herself.

“I just want to make a good impression.”  Hermione grumbled as she adjusted her hair for the millionth time.  She had tried to put it up in a fancy style she’d seen in one of Parvati’s magazines, but her hair had refused to cooperate.  So, she’d finally caved and pinned half of it up and left the rest to frame her face.

If Seamus’ eye rolls could have gotten more exasperated, they did.  “Hermione, they’re all related to me.  If I like you, they’ll like you.”  He paused. “Now, can we go downstairs before my mum decides she needs to bring even more food to this infernal event?” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh you like me, do you?”  She asked cheekily.

 “I think we’ve established that.”  Seamus said, smirking, before throwing a pillow at her lazily. 

“Hey!”  Hermione pretended to be offended as it whizzed by her head.  She gestured to her up-do.  “I worked hard on this!”

Seamus walked toward her grinning.  “You should have thought of that earlier.” He said as crept closer.

Hermione reddened.  “Stop that!”  She commanded, before Seamus threatened to pick her up.  “Weren’t you just saying we had to leave soon?”

Seamus quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t slow his approach.  “Oh, so now you’re in a rush?”  He asked, his breath sending shivers down Hermione’s spine.

Hermione swatted at him, forgetting her previous concerns.  “Will you come on?”  She asked.   _Prat_ , she thought to herself.

“Ah, but you’re not nervous anymore, are you?”  Seamus grinned.

At this, Hermione merely huffed.  Seamus thought he caught the word “insufferable” as she marched down the stairs.  Seamus decided this counted as a win.  He followed her down the stairs, laughing.

~

Áine watched as her nephew arrived with an unfamiliar girl, who she decided must be Hermione.   She waited until he had directed her to the food before nudging her sister.  “So, how long have those two been together?”  She asked Maggie.

“Not that long.”  Maggie said.  “Although, I’m hoping he hangs onto her—curse or not.  I’ve only just met her, but she seems very sweet.”

“Is she…”  Áine trailed off, uncertain as to how to broach the next topic.

“Magical?”  Maggie supplied.  “Yes, Seamus met her at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, thank Merlin!”  Áine said, relieved.

“Not that it would matter, either way.”  Maggie said, narrowing her eyes at her sister. 

“What you mean is that it shouldn’t matter.”  Áine amended, but faltered just as quickly under Maggie’s suddenly withering stare.  “Anyway, glad to see that they’re enjoying themselves.”  With that Áine launched into a round of gossip about the neighbors and the most recently out-of-favor family members.

~

Hermione had barely set her foot in the doorway before she was engulfed in a whirlwind of loud conversations and amazing aromas of food that was likely all homemade.  After looking around at the number of people in the sitting room alone, she decided that Seamus’ family might even give the Weasleys a run for their money. 

Even Seamus seemed to have no idea how everyone was related.  He vaguely gestured toward some first cousins twice removed, or perhaps it was second cousins once removed?  Hermione couldn’t keep everything straight.  After waving a few hellos, Seamus dragged Hermione to table decked out in appetizers.  “Eat whatever you can.”  Seamus whispered conspiratorially. “This won’t last long—and if my relatives have their way, we’ll be trapped in small talk for the next three hours.”

Hermione watched as he loaded up his plate and decided he likely wasn’t joking.  Quickly, she followed suit.  And, sure enough, she and Seamus had barely started eating when a conservatively-dressed, older woman approached Seamus with a bone-crunching hug.  He’d barely had time to set down his plate beforehand.  “Seamus!”  She said excitedly.  “I’m so glad you could make it. The professors at Hogwarts aren’t working you too hard are they?”

“No, Aunt Áine.”  Seamus eked out. Mercifully, this prompted Seamus’ aunt to quickly release him.

“Good.  I know that Professor McGonagall can be a bit overbearing sometimes.  Goodness knows, I’m grateful not to have been in Gryffindor.”  She prattled on a bit about the merits of Slytherin before catching Hermione’s eye.  She brightened even more.  “And this must be Hermione!  How are you dear?”  She asked enthusiastically.

“I’m well, thanks. You must be Seamus’ aunt.”  Hermione started, deciding that Seamus’ aunt reminded her a bit of Slughorn.  “Seamus has told me so much about you.”

At this, Áine preened.  “All good things, I hope?”  She asked, stealing a meatball from Seamus’ plate before he could claim it.

Hermione nodded.  “Of course.”

“You know,” Seamus’ aunt paused, “We really should have more of these family get-togethers.”

“We have one every year.”  Seamus said, between bites of his kebob.

His aunt waved him off.  “Yes, yes, but that’s not enough.  I mean, really.  Everyone’s so busy this time of year, we really don’t get much time to socialize.  I think I might put together a party in the spring.  Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”  She said this last part more to herself.

“That sounds lovely.”  Hermione said politely.  Seamus pretended to gag while his aunt’s back was turned.

“Sorry, do you need some water?”  Hermione eyed her boyfriend innocently.

When his aunt turned to face him worriedly, Seamus was all smiles.  “Sorry, must have gone down the wrong pipe.” 

His aunt nodded, instantly appeased.  Once his aunt’s back was facing him again, Seamus shot Hermione a faux-glare.  Hermione ignored him and attempted to remain engaged in the conversation. 

“So, anyway, Hermione, Seamus tells me that you’re particularly gifted in Transfiguration.”  Seamus’ aunt continued.

“I’m not sure about all that.”  Hermione said.  _Yes, I am,_ Hermione thought to herself. However, she refrained from saying that. 

Seamus appeared to read her thoughts.  “Yes, you are.”  He affirmed.

“That’s more like it!”  Seamus’ aunt said approvingly.  “A witch should recognize her talents!  None of this false modesty business!”  She pronounced.  “Too many people hide their gifts for fear of coming across as arrogant.  Who cares what people think?  If you’re talented, you’re talented.  That’s what I say!”

Hermione decided she liked this woman after all.  “I suppose you’re right.”  She said, smiling appreciatively.  “Although, I really don’t care for Divination.”  She chanced.

“Load of rubbish that is!” Seamus’ aunt agreed.  “In my day, we had some witch who must’ve decided that garish accessories would make up for her utter lack of ability.  The woman must have bought up an entire flea market in one go!”  She huffed.

“I suppose it’s a prerequisite.”  Hermione said dryly before she could stop herself.

At this, Seamus’ aunt snorted. “I like her.”  She said to Seamus before resuming conversations with Hermione.  “Really, dear.  I’m already making plans for a spring get-together and I hope you’ll come!”  She clasped her hands together as if suddenly remembering that perhaps she’d best attend to her other guests.  “Anyway, I’d best be off for a bit.  It was lovely chatting with you Hermione.  Seamus, you’d better bring her around more often!  Speaking of which,” she eyed her nephew reprovingly, “I could stand to see you a bit more often than once or twice a year!”

Seamus stuttered, “Yes, ma’am.”  He said.

“Good.”  His aunt said approvingly, before rushing to greet a new flurry of guests who had just arrived.

Once she was out of earshot, Seamus sighed in relief. 

Hermione raised a brow.  “She hardly seems as you described.”  She noted curiously.

“Ah, that’s because I’m the current favorite.”  Seamus said, somewhat smugly.

“Oh?”  Hermione asked curiously.

“I’m still in school, so I haven’t had a chance to screw up my life just yet.”  Seamus said with a wry grin.  “Well, that and mum showed her my grades recently.  In case you haven’t noticed, Áine is a huge fan of purposeful achievement—what, with being Slytherin and all.” Seamus led Hermione past the sitting room. 

“If we hurry, we might be able to make it before--”

“Seamus!”

“Nevermind.”  Seamus said under his breath.

Hermione could have sworn he then uttered something about his mum having too many siblings and him having too many cousins. 

When she looked up, she instantly recognized the faces greeting them from a photo on Seamus’ desk.

“How much did you have to pay this lovely girl to accompany you to this family reunion?”  A sandy-haired boy asked teasingly as he looked from Hermione to Seamus.

Hermione was about to retort, but the sandy-haired boy’s companion beat her to the punch before either she or Seamus could respond.

“Devin, be nice!”  The blonde girl next to him chided. She looked to Hermione encouragingly.  “I’m Neasa.  This ponce is my brother.”  She said rolling her eyes.  “Mum says I don’t have to claim him though.”

“Oh, shove off.”  Devin said good-naturedly.  “You weren’t saying that last week when you asked to borrow ten galleons.”

“More like I wanted the ten galleons you owed me back.”  Neasa retorted quickly.

Seamus rolled his eyes.  “Hermione, these are my cousins, Neasa and Devin.”

“Yeah, I think she got that.”  Devin said.  “Guess we know why you weren’t placed in Ravenclaw.”

“At least I’m not a Hufflepuff.” Seamus returned.

“And what’s wrong with being a badger, exactly?  Haven’t you seen that YouTube video?”  Devin asked.

Seamus laughed.  “I’m surprised you know what the Internet is, let alone YouTube.” 

Neasa rolled her eyes.  “He’s dating a Muggleborn who is currently educating him in the ways of Muggle technology.”

Devin waggled his eyebrows.  “Oh yes.  She’s very instructive.”

Neasa elbowed him hard.  “Grow up and stop being disgusting, would you?”

“To mine own self I must be true!”  Devin smirked as Neasa sighed again.

Hermione eyed Seamus’ cousins curiously, wondering why they seemed so unfamiliar.

“We graduated a few years ahead of Seamus.  I was in Ravenclaw.” Neasa lowered her voice.  “Aunt Áine nearly had a cow, what with not a single Finnigan cousin making it into Slytherin. Well, except Malcolm, but no one likes that git anyway.” 

“He’s _your_ brother,” Seamus reminded them.

“Yes, and we love him dearly,” Devin said dutifully.  “But, that doesn’t mean we have to like him.”

Hermione wondered privately if Malcolm was the Finnigan equivalent of Percy. She didn’t have long to wait as Seamus picked up the conversation.

“Speaking of which, where is he?  I’m surprised we haven’t come across his dour face yet.” Seamus said.

“Well, you won’t.” Neasa said matter-of-factly.  “He’s not coming.”

“Aunt Áine will kill him, but he decided that he had more important matters to attend to at the Ministry.”  Devin continued.  With his last statement, his voice took on an exaggerated, nasal tone.  Hermione supposed it was an impression of his missing brother.

“I thought he was just an assistant…”  Seamus stared at his cousins.

“Oh, no, no!”  Devin mock-tutted.  “Not _just_ an assistant— _the_ assistant to the assistant of Kingsley Shacklebot.”

_I thought Shacklebot had good sense_ , Hermione thought to herself.  She need not have worried.

Devin continued. “Of course, no one’s had the heart to tell him that Shacklebot’s only keeping him around because of his connections with less savory wizards. You know, the new age Lucius Malfoys and such.  Something about better to know your enemies and the like.”

Seamus nodded.  “So, what have you lot been up to?”  He asked curiously.

Neasa smiled, “Well, I’ve just recently gotten an internship at St. Mungo’s.” She grinned happily.  “I’m training under one of the more experienced medi-wizards and if all goes well, I might become a full-fledged Healer by the end of next year!”  She pronounced before smirking at her brother. 

“What about you, Devin?”  Hermione asked curiously. 

“Still unemployed and traveling the world.”  Devin winked at his sister.

“Wasting your inheritance, you mean.” Neasa said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, pardon me for wanting to see the sights before I’m old and decrepit.”

“Still, it seems irresponsible.”  Neasa began.

“Not all of us were born with sticks up our-”

“ _There you two are!_ ”  Another, older witch interrupted before Devin could finish his thought.

“Hi, Aunt Siobhán.”  Seamus said, grateful for her interruption.  “Neasa and Devin’s mum.”  He whispered to Hermione.

“Seamus!  Good to see you!  Keeping out of trouble, I hope!”  She said before eying Hermione.  “Siobhán Finnigan.  You must be Hermione.”

_Word gets around fast,_ Hermione thought.  “Yes,” she said.  “Nice to meet you.”  Hermione decided that by the end of the night, her face was going to hurt from smiling so widely. She really needed more food or a sit down.  Perhaps both.

“You’ve met two of my children anyway.  Hogwarts alums like you two are soon to be!”  She eyed Neasa, “have you seen your father?” 

Neasa shrugged.  “Probably in the room next door with Seamus’ dad.”

Siobhán sighed heavily.  “Oh goodness.  We’ve barely been here an hour and he’s already watching that stupid Muggle game.”  She shook her head.  “Nice to see you,” she said looking at Seamus and Hermione before wandering off to find her husband.

_Had it really only been an hour?_   Hermione wondered to herself.  Seamus seemed to sense her frustration and making his excuses, he led her away from his cousins, toward the back of the house.  As he did, he heard a sharp wolf whistle behind him followed by a loud slap.

Seamus grinned.

“Well, they’re definitely related to you.”  Hermione observed wryly.

“What does that mean?”  Seamus asked, pretending to be offended.

Hermione shrugged.  “Oh, nothing.”  She was temporarily distracted as a fluffy, grey cat rubbed itself against her shins. 

Seamus watched the interaction open-mouthed.  He grew even more shocked as Hermione picked the cat up and the infernal creature actually started purring.  As far as he could remember, that cat hated just about everyone except Áine.  It certainly didn’t like him.  Seamus remembered getting bitten when his aunt had first acquired Faye several years ago.

Hermione appeared to notice Seamus’ perplexed expression.  “What?”  She asked as she gently pet the now-purring grey cat.

“That’s Faye, my aunt’s favorite cat—and perhaps the most unfriendly feline I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet.”  Seamus said.

“I thought you liked cats?”  Hermione asked, thinking about Crookshanks and wondering if this meant the two would not get along.  Seamus had never actually met her orange fluffball as Crookshanks was rarely around. Unlike other familiars, he was given extra leniency, given his role in the identification of Peter Pettigrew, some several years back. During the day, Crookshanks spent as much time as possible lurking about the castle, hunting mice and generally staying away from the Gryffindor dormitories until Hermione was ready to go to sleep.  She supposed the Fat Lady had a soft spot for half-kneazles.

“Hermione?”  Seamus noted that his date’s attention had seemed to wander.

“Hmm?”  Hermione asked.

“I said that I do, but Faye is normally a devil with fur.”

Sensing an insult, Faye hissed at Seamus.

“He didn’t mean that.”  Hermione coaxed gently, as she scratched Faye behind the ears.

Seamus shook his head.  “Yes, I did.”  He muttered.  As he said it, he could swear that the stupid, fat cat was currently giving him the stink eye.  “Anyway, maybe we could find somewhere to sit down for a bit?”  He asked.

Hermione nodded, appreciatively.  Gingerly, she set down the cat who, as it seemed was not quite ready to relinquish its hold on Hermione’s attentions.  Faye meowed unhappily before dashing away, likely in search of her owner.  Seamus opened the back door.  However, he and Hermione quickly realized that they were not the only ones who wished to get away from everyone for a while.  Instead, they were met with two somber faces who were quietly seated together on a bench.  At the sound of the door, both looked up.

“Seamus?”  They asked.

“Hi, Aunt Esme.  Uncle Ferguson.” Seamus greeted.  “This is my girlfriend-”  He started, but apparently need not have bothered.

“She’s the one helping you, isn’t she?”  Seamus’ uncle stood to shake Hermione’s hand warmly.  “Thank you,” he said.

Hermione nodded.  “It’s nice to meet you both.”  She looked over where Seamus’ aunt remained seated.

“So, how’s the hunt for solutions going?”  Seamus’ uncle asked, attempting to keep the tone light, but failing miserably.

Seamus glanced at Hermione quickly.  “We may have found something, but we won’t really know for sure until January.”

“Oh.”  The elder wizard’s expression fell and he and his wife busied themselves with looking anywhere but Hermione and Seamus. _They were hoping that Seamus could somehow bring their son back too_ , Hermione realized.  She decided it was best not to mention that the curse was different this time.  That would only lead to more questions—questions that neither she nor Seamus could answer.

When no one said anything else, Hermione felt herself growing more and more uncomfortable, especially as she noted the sorrowful expression seemingly permanently etched across Seamus’ aunt’s face.  Perhaps her emotional range wasn’t as broad as she’d earlier thought.  Uncertain of what to say, she willed Seamus to do something.  He didn’t disappoint.   

“We’ll let you know as soon as we find something.”  Seamus promised before stopping himself, as though just remembering something.  He looked at his uncle apologetically.  “Anyway, I just realized that I never gave Hermione a proper tour of the area.  We’ll be back in time for dinner.”  Seamus promised before leading Hermione away.  

~

“Well, that went well.”  Hermione exhaled deeply once the two had wandered well away from the porch and were entrenched in the vast acreage behind Seamus’ aunt’s place.

“I’m kind of surprised that they showed up.”  Seamus admitted.  “It’s been really hard for them.  My mum’s sister probably guilted them into attending.  I think my aunt especially keeps hoping that this whole thing is a bad nightmare and that Fergus will reappear any day now.”  He sighed to himself, as he recounted the past hour or so.  “I’m sorry.  You probably think we’re all mad as a box of frogs.”

Hermione shook her head sympathetically.  “No,” she said, still wishing she was better with emotions.  Just as quickly, she shifted gears.  “Should we go back inside?  Your Aunt Áine didn’t strike me as someone who would approve of us being late to dinner.”

Seamus scoffed, temporarily distracted.  “With how much she fancies gossip?  We’ll be lucky to eat by ten.  No, I said I’d give you a proper tour and I intend to.” 

Hermione blushed, remembering that they had not spend much time actually sightseeing earlier.

Seamus looked at her.  “I think we could use a little more time away.  Do you trust me?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.  “Do you really have to ask?”

Seamus shrugged.  “Well then, I’m going to need to borrow your wand again.”

Hermione handed it over.  “But, why do-” She started, before Seamus pulled her into a side hug and the two disappeared with a distinct pop.

Immediately, Hermione regretted her choice of footwear as her heels sank into the mud.  She glanced around, astounded by a horizon dotted with hills and what appeared to be old monastic sites.  She sucked in a breath.  “Where are we?”  She asked, awestruck.

“The Valley of Two Lakes.”  Seamus answered.  “Pretty peaceful, huh?”  He asked as he transfigured a nearby moss patch into a checkered blanket.

Hermione gaped at him.  “Where did you learn to do that?”

Seamus shrugged again.  “Well, somebody’s got to give you a run for your money now and again, right?”

“But,” Hermione, faltered.

Once again, Seamus read her thoughts.  “I’ve had a few years to improve.”  He grinned. “Plus, it helps to have a fully functional wand.”  He guided her toward the blanket and the two sat side by side.

Hermione was really starting to question whether her boyfriend was also a Leglimens. “So, why are we here?”

Seamus steered her gaze to where the sun was slowly setting behind the hills.  “Wow.”  Hermione breathed.

“That’s why.”  Seamus said.  “Think of this as my apology for the next few hours with my family.”

“They’re not that bad.” Hermione said smiling.  _At least they’re speaking to you,_ she thought sadly.

“Ah, but you’ve just met them.”  He grinned, but sobered just as quickly as he noticed Hermione’s faraway gaze.  “Hermione?”  He began tentatively.  “Don’t get me wrong.  I’m thrilled you’re spending time with me, but-”

“Why am I here instead of with my parents?”  Hermione asked, feeling herself tense up as she imagined what her parents were likely doing right now.  She felt her eyes watering and attempted to force the memories of her last conversation with her mum to the back of her head.

Seamus nodded.  “And don’t give me that, ‘they’re busy in Australia’ business.  You and I both know you’re fully capable of apparating down there—and I want to know why you’re not.”

Hermione shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter.”  She said, not really want to talk about her parents with Seamus.

“Yes, it does.”  Seamus said gently, pulling Hermione close to him.  He gently tilted her chin to force her to meet his gaze.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “We’ve got bigger issues to deal with than my parents.”  She said resolutely before struggling to wiggle away from Seamus.

Seamus was undeterred. “For the love of Merlin, Hermione, it’s not a competition.”

Hermione glared.  “I didn’t say it was.”  She wrenched herself away from Seamus and stared off into space, folding her arms across her chest protectively.

Seamus rolled his eyes.  “You don’t have to.  Thanks, in large part to you, I’ve not been wandering around with my head up my arse these last few months.  And here you are, struggling with stuff of your own and not talking to anyone about it.”

“It’s not a big deal.”  Hermione said, still attempting to look anywhere but Seamus.

“Yes, it is.”  Seamus retorted.  “If you’re going to be part of my support system, then let me be part of yours.  I’m not asking for your life story—although, I wouldn’t say no.  Just, let me be there for you like you’ve been there for me.”  He said.  As he finished, he noticed that Hermione was no longer fighting his attempts to comfort her.  Instead, she had grown still and she allowed Seamus to pull her into a tight hug.

“They wanted me to choose.”  Hermione said, as tears streamed silently down her face. “My life with them or my life as a witch.”  She rested her head on Seamus’ shoulder and Seamus tenderly rubbed her back while she lay against him, unmoving. He felt himself growing angry on Hermione’s behalf.  _How was that fair_?  Seamus wondered to himself.  _One minute, Hermione was a hero, the next an estranged daughter. Unless._

“They don’t know about Voldemort, do they?”  He asked slowly.

Hermione snorted.

“I’ll take that as a no.”  Seamus said carefully.

“Why should I have told them?  They worried about me enough every time I went off into a world where they couldn’t follow me.  Telling them about all the dangers of the Wizarding World would’ve only caused them more stress.”  Hermione said from Seamus’ shoulder.

“They’re your parents.  They’re supposed to worry.  It’s in their job description, next to embarrass the ever-loving pants off of you.” Seamus said, thinking back to his mum’s antics earlier.

“Yeah, well, my parents think I just went through a rebellious phase and ran off to do irresponsible teenage things.  Oh, and modifying their memory?  That was just the cherry on top.”  Hermione sighed as her mind pulled her back into the final face-to-face conversation she’d had with her parents.

_“Hermione Jean Granger. I will not have any more of this nonsense.  Your father and I have put up with this for long enough! First, you get accepted to some strange school half a league away and against our better judgement, your father and I let you go.  Then, you disappear for months on end during the summer to go hang out with Weasels?”_

_“Weasleys, Mum.”  Hermione had seethed quietly._

_“Yes, well, this last time was too far.  Not only did you just up and run away, but you had your father and me convinced that we had no daughter for the last, how long?  Months? Years? I’ll never know, will I? Sure, you say it was only a short time, but how can I know?  And for what?  Just so you could run around with some so-called friends of yours for a year.  You weren’t even in school!  Hermione, I didn’t raise you to behave this way. This Wizarding World of yours has corrupted the sweet little girl I used to know.  We can get through this, but it will take time.  Stop being selfish, Hermione.  Give up this nonsense and come home once and for all.”_

Hermione felt her sobs grow stronger, in spite of her best efforts otherwise.

“Hermione?”  Seamus asked softly.  His voice, so close to Hermione’s ear quickly brought her back to reality. She shivered at his breath on her skin.

“Being a witch is a part of who I am.  How could I just give that up?”  Hermione asked.

Seamus shook his head. “You can’t.”  He smiled.  “And, I for one am glad you don’t want to.  Hogwarts—or the Wizarding World as a whole, wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Hermione sighed and pulled apart from Seamus. “It just doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Keeping it bottled up won’t make it go away.”  Seamus said.  “And, you may hate me for saying this, but I think your parents are the ones being selfish.  Not you.”

Hermione smiled faintly.  “Thank you.”  She said.

Seamus hugged Hermione again.  “You’re a wonderful person.  No one should have to go through things alone.  If I can accept help, you can too.”  He said.

Hermione sighed.  “I guess you’re right.”  She said.  “Anyway, we should probably be getting back.” She said, while attempting to reapply her make-up.  As she did, Hermione happened to look at Seamus’ left shoulder—which was covered in mascara.   “I hope you weren’t especially attached to that shirt.”  She said, shooting him a wry grin.

 “Not any more than any other piece of clothing I own.  When you blow up more shirts than wash, you can’t afford to be super picky.”  He smiled, causing Hermione to laugh.  Seamus looked at her. “You know, we don’t actually have to go back.”

Hermione shook her head.  “Your family will be missing you.”

Seamus shrugged.  “Let them.”

“But-“ Hermione started.

“No buts.  Tonight is about you.”  Seamus said firmly.  “Plus, that’ll give Aunt Áine and company something new to talk about.  Goodness knows they’ve probably run out of gossip by now.”  He winked.

Hermione laughed. “You might lose your title as most-favored cousin.”

Seamus shrugged. “I’m heartbroken.”  He said.

Hermione looked at him appreciatively, “You’re something else, you know that?”

“So are you.”  Seamus said seriously.  “How would you feel about some homecooked Irish fare, not made by my family?”  He asked.

Hermione snuggled up against Seamus before placing a light kiss on his cheek.  “Maybe later.”  She said as she lay down on the blanket. Following her lead, Seamus cuddled up next to her.  Together, the two watched the sun set behind the hills.

~


	14. Back to the Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is a cruel mistress. I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but I also hate that it's taken me this long to update. I am so sorry! :-(

Not it long it seemed after Hermione and Seamus had accidentally-on purpose ditched his impromptu family reunion, it was time to go.  Hermione knew she needed to make good on her promise to Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys to visit the Burrow—but she was finding it harder and harder to leave. 

Other considerations aside, she was really not looking forward to seeing Ron. Dread knotted itself in her stomach.  He hadn’t responded to any of the letters she’d sent after their meeting in Hogsmeade.  Admittedly, Hermione hadn’t actually _wanted_ to write any of the letters she’d penned.  But, Hermione’s friendship with Harry far surpassed her annoyance with Ron.  So, she had at least made an effort.  For someone who claimed to want to be close to her, Ron sure could’ve fooled her. Now, as she prepared to head to the Burrow, she had no idea what kind of firestorm she was potentially walking into.

“You don’t have to go, you know.”  Seamus said.  He walked up behind her suddenly as if sensing her discomfort.  “You heard my mum.  You could stay here for the rest of the holidays.”

Hermione stared at him matter-of-factly.  “Yes, I do.  A promise is a promise.”

Seamus snorted.  “Ginny’s related to Ron.  I’m sure she’ll understand if you don’t want to be subjected to his company any longer than necessary.  George too.”

“Seamus!”  Hermione chastised.

Seamus held up his hands in defense.  “What?”  He asked innocently.  “Besides, you were thinking it.” He finished quietly.

Hermione had been thinking along similar lines but she refused to give Seamus the satisfaction.  She narrowed her eyes.  “No.”  She said instead.  “Besides, it’s tradition.”

Seamus tried a different route.  “I could come with you?”  He offered.

Hermione pretended to contemplate.  “Much as I’d love your company, I think Mrs. Weasley would appreciate having her youngest son remain in one piece for the duration of the holiday.”

“Hey now!”  Seamus defended again.  “I wouldn’t do anything to Ron…unless he did something first.”  He added under his breath.

Hermione ignored Seamus’ last comment.  “Your parents would miss you.”  She said instead, eying him sternly.

Seamus pouted.  “Well, if you change your mind…” he wheedled.

“Then, I’ll come back.”  Hermione finished as she kissed him.   She’d planned to apparate to the Weasleys but had never much been a fan of it.  The sensation always left her feeling very out of sorts.  “Besides, it’s not like the Weasleys don’t have owls.”  She argued, wondering who she was trying to convince: Seamus or herself.

Hermione had only been there a few days, but Seamus knew that he’d miss her when she was gone.  Even at school, the two had become nearly inseparable.  Seamus had told himself it was a byproduct of all of their research.  But, their research hadn’t involved him asking her out or her accepting.  He smiled as he thought about how warm she felt cuddled against him the previous night when they’d fallen asleep on the couch after overdoing it on homemade sweets. 

He knew it was stupid, but he was slightly jealous—okay, very jealous—of Ron.  The stupid git got to spend Christmas with Hermione.  Seamus doubted that Ron was even grateful.  He made a mental note to owl George later. Surely, his new favorite Weasley had at least one version of an enchanted holiday sweet.  If Ron’s eating habits were anything like they’d been at Hogwarts, well Seamus knew that he could make the other wizard’s life rather miserable—especially if any of Hermione’s letters indicated that he was being a git.  Then again, Seamus also had a feeling that Hermione wouldn’t tell him if Ron were being a git in anticipation of this very thing.  Seamus forced himself back into the present to see Hermione staring rather concernedly at him.

She knotted her eyebrows. “You’ll see me soon enough.”  Hermione reminded him upon seeing his sulking expression.

“You mean you won’t miss me?”  Seamus asked, half-jokingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him again.  “Of course I will, stupid.”  She hugged him, before Seamus broke off the kiss.

“Gee, thanks.” Seamus said good naturedly as he ruffled her hair.

“Stop that!”  Hermione glared at him.

Seamus grinned.  “See?  I thought you said you’d miss me and there you are fussing at me already!”

Hermione sighed at him.  “If I don’t hurry up, George and Ginny will wonder what the hold-up is.”

“Fine, fine.” Seamus returned her sigh before his tone grew more serious.  “Are you going to write your parents?  Maybe wish them a Happy Christmas?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes in challenge.

Seamus returned her gaze.  “They may not be in the right, but they’re still your parents.”

Hermione huffed and folded her arms defensively.  “I sent them a card yesterday morning while you were doing chores.”

“Oh.”  Seamus said, but didn’t press the issue.  He opted for a hug instead.  “I’m glad then.”  He gave her a final squeeze.  “I guess the sooner you go, the sooner I’ll see you again.”  He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

He felt Hermione relax against him. “I’m not sure that’s logical.”  She whispered.

“I’m not sure I care.”  Seamus whispered back.  “Now hurry up, before my parents come out here and my mum tries to hold you captive.”  He said grinning.  “She’ll do it too.”  Seamus said, his grin widening.  “And you know I wouldn’t stop her.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay.”  Hermione teased.

Seamus shrugged.  “I do, but I’d also prefer that George and Ginny not hex me for keeping them from their favourite witch.”

“Right you are!”  Called a familiar voice.

Hermione turned to see George Weasley striding up to the porch.  He smiled at both of them good-naturedly.  “You two done with your goodbyes yet?”  He grinned cheekily.  “Or, should I turn away?”

Hermione blushed, but Seamus was comparatively unfazed.  “Just finished.”  He said, returning George’s grin.  “Come to hex me, have you?”  He asked jokingly.

George shrugged. “Nah.  Mum was just wondering what was taking so long is all.  You know how she gets.”  He said, looking at Hermione this time.

Hermione nodded.  Mrs. Weasley tended to get a bit frantic when things didn’t go according to schedule.  Hermione had _no idea_ what that was like.  “Right.  I suppose I should be off then.”  She gave Seamus a final hug and followed George with her trunk in tow. “I’ll see you soon!”  She said smiling at Seamus before disappearing with a pop.  George followed her only a second later.

Once they were gone, Seamus sat on the porch steps, staring out at nothing in particular.  He barely had a moment alone with his thoughts, however, before his mum joined him.  “Cold out here all of the sudden, isn’t it?”  She asked knowingly.

“It is winter.”  Seamus returned without looking at her or the snow that had started to fall again.

His mum was unconvinced.  “Mmhm.” 

“What?”  Seamus asked finally.

“She’ll be back before you know it.”  Maggie said, staring straight at her son.

“I know that.”  Seamus scoffed, not bothering to wonder how his mum knew what he was thinking.  He’d never been much of a blank slate.

“Sure, you do.  That’s why you look about as happy as Faye going to the vet.”  Mrs. Finnigan shook her head as her stubborn son said nothing in response.  Instead, he sat up and stomped inside.  “Who knows, you might see her sooner than you think.”  She called behind her, smiling as she did.  The screen door slammed suddenly and Maggie laughed aloud.  _Ah, young love. There may be hope yet_ , she thought to herself as she stared into the silent landscape.

~

“…and then mum _insisted_ that we get both a ham and a turkey since it’s going to be a full house.”  George was saying as the two were walking up the steps to the Burrow.

Despite her best efforts, Hermione was only half paying attention.  “Wonderful.”  She mused as the two reached the porch.

George seemed to sense this.  “I’m thinking about launching a Wizarding Space Exploration initiative.  Crookshanks has agreed to be the first kneazle in space.”  He said out of nowhere.

“That’s nice.”  Hermione said and George stared at her, knowing full well that Hermione would start knitting sweaters for Pansy Parkinson before she ever agreed to send her beloved orange monstrosity into space.  

“Earth to Hermione.”  George tried.

“Hmm?”  Hermione seemed to snap out of whatever daze she was in.

“What’s on your mind?”  George asked.  “You thinking about _Seamus_?”  He grinned knowingly.

Hermione reddened.  “I most certainly _am not_!”  She most certainly was.

“Well that’s certainly a relief.”  Another voice interjected from the front porch.  Ron stood waiting for them, turkey leg in hand.  “How’s it going, ‘Mione?”  Ron asked with a mouthful of food.

George rolled his eyes.  “You know that turkey was supposed to feed _all_ of us, right Ron?”

Ron reddened.  “Mum bought multiple!”  He defended.

Hermione shook her head.  Some things never changed.  “I’m well, Ron. Yourself?” She asked, slightly annoyed that Ron seemed to have forgotten their last meeting, or how to write a basic letter.

“I’m good.  Mum will be glad to see you!  She and Ginny are in the kitchen.  They shoo’ed me out though.”  Ron said, looking slightly disappointed.

Hermione stared at the nearly-consumed turkey leg.  “Can’t imagine why.”  Hermione said dryly.

George snorted.  “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.  I’ve got a few hours left at the shop. Last-minute shoppers and all that. That ‘back in 15 minutes’ sign will only work for so long before the rioting begins.”  He grinned between Hermione and Ron and disappeared with a pop.

“So, er.”  Ron scratched the back of his head nervously.  “It’s good to see you.”

“So, good in fact that you couldn’t be bothered to write?”  Hermione asked, lips pursed.

“Oh, right.  The letters.  Meant to respond to those.  You know how it goes.  Busy, busy.” Ron said. Pausing, he threw his now finished turkey leg deep into the garden.  Unfortunately, it knocked down a small snow fortress that the garden gnomes were busily constructing.  Their high-pitched squeaks relayed their general discontent.

“I see.”  Hermione narrowed her eyes at the ruined snow construction.  “Was that really necessary?”  She asked.  At least one gnome was starting at them, angrily shaking his fist.

Ron followed her gaze.  “Oops?”  He said.  “Hermione, I wasn’t paying attention…”  He began, walking toward her.

“Funny.”  Hermione said in a tone that implied that it was anything but.  “Seems like a constant with you.”  She turned away, but not before being practically attacked by another redhead as the Burrow’s front door opened.

“Hermione!”  A familiar voice cried in excitement as the figure hugged her tighter.  “I was afraid you wouldn’t come!”  She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.  “Perhaps something or _someone_ has kept you?  I expect details!”

“Oh, come off it Ginny.  You know Hermione.  She probably got lost in a book or something.”  Ron said, attempting a weak smile.

“Actually,” Hermione started, but found herself interrupted by _her_ favourite Weasley who seemed to have inherited the communication abilities that Ron lacked.

“Anyway, come inside before you freeze!”  Ginny said dramatically before chastising her brother.   “Honestly, Ron.  Were you two just going to stand out here all night?”  She paused before catching sight of some very angry gnomes.  “And, look!  You’ve gone and antagonized the garden gnomes, haven’t you?  Mum just wished them a Happy Christmas Eve this morning and look what you’ve gone and done!”

Ron tried to defend himself, but as seemed to be the story of his life lately, he was too late.  Ginny tugged Hermione into the warmth of the Burrow.  Behind them, Ron stared forlornly into the distance, wondering when he and Hermione had begun to fall apart.

~

“Isn’t it cute?”  Ginny squealed in delight as she showed Hermione an impressively large gingerbread house that was perched precariously on a table in the sitting room.  “Mum made it just last night.”

Sure enough, Hermione noticed that there were gingerbread replicas of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron and Ginny inside the house.  There was also a gingerbread doll for Fleur, Bill’s new wife and their young daughter.

“Where’s…”  Hermione started to ask, before thinking better of it.

“Mum thought it would be too sad to have Fred – but he’s there in spirit.”  Ginny said, appearing to read Hermione’s thoughts.

Hermione stared harder at the house.  “Is that…is that, _Harry?!_ ”  She asked incredulously.

Ginny beamed.  “It is!  You’ll never believe it, Hermione!  He finally proposed!”  She said, grinning ear-to-ear.  “I meant to tell you earlier, but I figured it’d be better in person.”

“So, where is everyone?”  Hermione asked, finally noticing that the normally lively house was oddly quiet.

“Oh that.”  Ginny waved her hand lazily.  “Well, you know where George is.  Mum’s in the kitchen.  Charlie’s due any minute from Romania.  Bill and Fleur are coming in an hour.  Percy, well—actually I don’t know where he is.  He might be in his old room.  Never can tell with him.  Ron’s probably still outside sulking.  I sent Harry on an errand.  He’ll be back around dinner time.”  She grinned mischievously, but wouldn’t specify just what type of errand Harry had been sent on.   “Anyway, I thought you wanted to hear about my proposal?”  Ginny batted her eyes and gave her best pout. 

Hermione relented.  “Well, of course!”  She said as the two sat in the living room.

~

“Seamus!  You have a visitor!”  Maggie called somewhat excitedly.

Seamus stirred in confusion and set down the Muggle magazine he’d half-heartedly been reading.  He’d tried to help his mum with dinner, but much like Ron at the Burrow, he’d been unceremoniously shooed out.  Unlike Ron, he hadn’t tried to eat half of the food first.

Seamus didn’t have long to wonder.  There in the doorway stood Harry Potter.  Well, _that_ was certainly a surprise.  He hadn’t seen either male Golden Trio member since the unfortunate Hogsmeade encounter.

“Can I help you?”  Seamus asked not unkindly.  “Did Hermione forget something?”  He continued, thinking that the brunette witch had done a rather thorough job of packing her things earlier that day.

Harry shrugged.  “In a matter of speaking.”  He said, before looking toward Seamus’ mum.

Seamus looked between his mum and Harry.  He had a funny feeling that the two were conspiring against him. “Sorry?”  He asked, still confused.

“Seamus, dear.  Harry mentioned that the Weasleys are eating around 6 and would _love_ to have you.  You know as well as I do that our lot isn’t eating until at least 9.”  Seamus’ mum looked rather pleased with herself.  “You could eat with the Weasleys and then bring Hermione back with you.   We could drop her off around midnight, after the candlelight service.  Molly has already assured me that she’ll be up.”

Seamus scratched his head, thinking that had to be the most ridiculous plan he’d ever heard.  He stared at Harry as though the wizard had gone mad.

Harry shook his head.  “Don’t look at me!  I’m just the messenger.”  He said, before adjusting his glasses.

“Molly and I thought it would be a nice surprise for both of you.”  Maggie smiled.

“And Ginny practically forced me to come get you.  Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”  Harry continued.

Seamus could see that.  The youngest Weasley had stopped by a few days ago and insisted on taking Hermione on an all-day shopping trip while Seamus was stuck doing chores.  The fiery redhead had been so stubborn that even Hermione had been unable to refuse her.

“I knew I liked that girl!” Maggie said grinning.  “If rumors are to be believed, you have good taste, Harry.”

“Erm, thanks.”  Harry said, suddenly embarrassed that the attention had shifted to him.  It didn’t last, however, as Mrs. Finnigan took in the disheveled appearance of her son. 

“Seamus!”  She scolded.  “I’m not having Molly thinking I raised my son without manners.  Go upstairs and get changed. 

Seamus grumbled and Harry fought back a grin.  The expressions reversed, however, as Mrs. Finnigan looked at Harry. “And you, I’ll bet you’ve had a long day at the office.  Seamus told me you’ve accepted a position as an Auror.  Not an easy role to be certain!  You come right over here and help yourself to some biscuits.  They’re chocolate and raspberry, just out of the oven!”  Mrs. Finnigan practically dragged an unprepared Harry to the kitchen.

Seamus snorted as he headed up the stairs.  Harry would be eating sweets whether he liked it or not.  The Weasley and Finnigan matriarchs were similar like that. Once upstairs, he settled on a pair of dark slacks, sensible shoes, button up shirt and green jumper.  Just as he was about to spare Harry from whatever else his mother was trying to force-feed him, Seamus caught sight of a small package in the corner of his room.  Quickly, he grabbed his coat and stuffed the package into one of the pockets. He headed downstairs just in time to catch his mother regaling Harry with some of her many thoughts on the current state of the Ministry.

“And, I don’t understand why the Ministry doesn’t do more about cleaning house!”  Mrs. Finnigan was saying to a clearly uncomfortable Harry.

“I’m not really sure they have the manpower right now.”  Harry said between bites of biscuit.

“But that’s just another part of the problem!”  Seamus’ mum was saying.

Seamus cleared his throat and both Maggie and Harry paused to look at him. “Mum?  I guess we’ll be off then.”  He said.

Mrs. Finnigan waved them off.  “Yes, right.”  She quickly boxed a plate of biscuits and handed them to her son.  “Bring these to Mrs. Weasley as a hostess gift.”  She advised sternly.  She turned to Harry.  “And Harry, it was so nice to see you!”

Harry murmured a thank you as Seamus practically dragged him out the door.  “Get out while you still can,” Seamus muttered under his breath.

“I _heard_ that!”  Came Seamus’ mum’s mock outraged reply.  She laughed as both boys disappeared with successive pops.

~

As Seamus had expected, his reception at the Burrow had been mixed.  Namely, Molly had engulfed him in a hug to rival one of his mother’s.  Hermione had blushed before giving him a tentative hug of her own.  Oh, and Ron had stared daggers at him.  It was par for the course, Seamus supposed.  Ginny had eyed him curiously, but none of the other Weasleys had paid him much mind.

George had taken the opportunity to drape an arm over one of Seamus’ shoulders and lead him to his place at the table, as though the two were old chums.  When they were just out of earshot, George whispered, “Ignore Ron.  He just hasn’t properly embraced the Christmas spirit is all.  No help for it.  What have you and Hermione been up to?  She’s been decidedly quiet on the subject.”

Seamus reddened.  “Research mostly.”

“That so?”  George asked, increasing his volume as she spoke.  “Didn’t realize snogging was a vital part of research.”

At this, Hermione and Seamus both studied their empty plates rather intently.  Ron’s ears turned pink and George sat back in his seat, rather pleased with himself.  No one else appeared to notice.

“How did you?”  Seamus began to ask as Hermione smacked her forehand in frustration.

“Didn’t until now.”  George said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Seamus muttered some choice words in Gaelic.

“There’ll be no talk of snogging at my dinner table!”  Mrs. Weasley interrupted.  She leaned over George to add the final pieces to the Christmas Eve meal.   After arranging things to her liking, she resumed her seat at a table head, opposite from her husband.  “Now then,” she began as surrounding conversations died down to a murmur.  “I’m so thankful for friends and family on this day.  We’ve been through so much over the years and I’m truly blessed to be able to-” She paused, eying her children critically before settling on her youngest son.  “Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you don’t put that fork down this instant…”

She was cut off by Bill and Fleur’s son flinging a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes straight at Ron.  They landed with a dull plop on Ron’s forehand before lazily sliding down onto his lap.  With this turn of events, what was once a serious tone quickly became light.  Molly Weasley sighed as the table erupted into laughter, with Louis eagerly banging on the table with his spoon-turned weapon shouting, “More, more, more!”  His older sisters glared at him, but even Fleur managed a small smile.  “Now, now.”  She chastised gently, before her husband nudged her.  “Should’ve put down that fork, Ron.”  Bill said between guffaws.

At this, even Ron had to laugh.  “Guess so.”  He said returning Louis’ triumphant smile.

Suddenly, dinner became much more relaxed.

~

After dinner, Ginny dragged Hermione off somewhere.  Between Hermione’s profuse apologies, Seamus caught something about hearing Harry’s proposal story and Hermione not listening properly the first time around.  As Seamus looked around, Harry and George appeared to have disappeared too. 

In fact, the only other person who did not appear engrossed in conversation was the last person he wanted to talk to.  _Great_ , Seamus grumbled to himself as Ron lumbered over.  His frustrated was quickly replaced by astonishment as Ron offered his hand.  Tentatively, Seamus shook it before staring questioningly at the hand’s owner.

“Wanna talk?”  Ron asked gruffly.

Seamus shrugged.  “Dunno. Might as well?”  He offered, before following Ron outside.  In hindsight, it might not have been the smartest decision to leave the Burrow with Auror who in all likelihood hated him, but Seamus was both intrigued and bored – and both of these sentiments outweighed any logic he might have otherwise possessed.

“Guess I should apologize.”  Ron started tentatively.

“For being a git to Hermione?”  Seamus asked before he could stop himself.  “Yeah, you probably should.  Doesn’t explain why you’re talking to me of all people though.”

Ron laughed dryly.  “In case you haven’t noticed, Hermione’s been avoiding me all night.”

“With how charming you’ve been lately, I can’t imagine why.”  Seamus said in the same snarky tone.

Ron shook his head.  “You two are so alike.”  He said this more to himself than to Seamus.  “Can see why she likes you.”  He looked at Seamus.  “Just don’t screw it up?”

Well that wasn’t what Seamus had been expecting.  He relaxed slightly, deciding that this was as close to a peace offering as he was going to get.  “What happened with you two?”  Seamus asked finally.

“Dunno.”  Ron said, staring at the dimly lit sky.  “I guess everyone figured we’d get together at the end of the war – and I took our future for granted.”  He snorted.  “Can’t believe I’m telling you this, of all people.”  He sized Seamus up for a moment.  “You got any liquor on you?”

“Oh, just because I’m Irish, you think…”  Seamus started indignantly before Ron narrowed his eyes.  “Fine.”  He said at Ron’s unspoken challenge.  He handed Ron a small bottle of whiskey.  “Thought I was going to need it to get through an evening with you.”

“Another thing we have in common,” Ron said before drinking up.  He eyed another bulge in Seamus’ coat pocket.  “What’s that?”  He asked curiously.  

“Present for Hermione.”  Seamus answered.

“It’s not Quidditch-related, is it?”  Ron asked nervously.  “She hates that.”

“I don’t hate Quidditch!”  An indignant voice cried behind them.

“Hermione.”  Ron appeared to grow nervous.  He shifted his feet anxiously before meeting his ex-girlfriend’s gaze.  “Thought you were inside with Ginny.”

Hermione stood between her boyfriend and friend.  “Well, I _was_ until I realized that some genius had allowed the two of you to go off unsupervised.”

Seamus smirked.  “We’re not going to blow each other up, Hermione.”

“Not on Christmas Eve anyway,” Ron allowed. “Or ever.”  He added when he saw Hermione’s expression.

“Yes, well your track records speak for themselves, don’t they?”  Hermione said without waiting for a response from either of them.

Seamus shrugged.  “Can’t argue there.”  He hugged Hermione tightly and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, no longer afraid that Ron was going to spontaneously combust at the visual.  “Think I’m going to head in for a bit.  Harry said he might’ve found some useful counter-spells.  I figured I’d make some notes and we could review them later.”

Hermione brightened.  “Really?  That’s great!”  She said, about to follow Seamus inside. She was surprised when Seamus looked pointedly over at Ron before disappearing inside.

“Er, Hermione?”  Ron interjected nervously.  “Maybe we could talk?”

Hermione eyed her former boyfriend with disdain.  Once the front door had shut and she and Ron were alone, she sighed heavily.  “Do I even want to know what you two were talking about?”

“You’re not making this easy for me Hermione.”  Ron started.

Hermione shrugged, before sitting on the porch swing.  “I’m not the one who cheated.  Besides, you had plenty of opportunity to talk to me.  It’s not my fault you couldn’t be bothered to put a quill to paper.”

“Talking and owling are different.”  Ron tried again.

Once again, Hermione stonewalled him.  “Well, if you can’t respond to a simple letter, I fail to see how you could possibly form any words I’d be interested in hearing.”

“I said I was sorry!”  Ron practically yelled. “It’s been a year.  What more do you want me to do?  Besides, you’ve obviously moved on.”  He said the last as more of an afterthought.

Hermione shrugged. “You could start by giving me some credit once in a while.  Or by being a friend.”  She eyed him sternly, “And _not_ just because Harry told you to play nicely.”

“Oh, please.  We both know that’s the only reason you wrote those letters.  So, get off your high horse already, will you?  Why would I respond to some half-hearted musings you only wrote to appease your inner self-righteousness?”

“Are you really going to do this right now?”  Hermione wanted to know.

“No time like the present, right?”  Ron asked, sitting next to Hermione.  His sudden presence made the swing feel that much smaller and Hermione was already regretting her seating choice.

“Fine.”  Hermione huffed.

“I get it.  I screwed up.  Are you really going to hold that over my head the rest of my life?”  Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged.  “Depends.  Are you going to act like a git for the foreseeable future?”

“This is what I mean.  Every time I try to apologize, you stomp all over it.”

Hermione stared at him incredulously.  “ _This_?!  This is supposed to be an apology?  The last time we talked, you started off nicely enough – but the minute I told you that I did not want to give our relationship another go, it went straight to hell.  Saying sorry isn’t a free pass to get what you want.  You want to be friends?  You want to put all of this behind us and act like civilized human beings?  Well, then start acting like one, for once in your bloody life!”  Hermione stood up quickly, causing the swing to lurch backward. 

“Did you ever consider things from my perspective?” Ron shouted.

“The fact that I’m entertaining this conversation should tell you that I have.”  Hermione said.  “There are other people in this world besides you and me Ron.   You want to be my friend?  Then start being a friend – even when there’s nothing to be gained from it.  That’s what friends do.  They don’t sit around sulking, with their heads in the sand about the bigger picture.  Oh and Seamus?  Yeah, he could really use your help too, in case you haven’t noticed.  So, get over yourself.”

Seamus chose that time to poke his head out.  “Hermione, it’s getting on toward nine.”  He said meaningfully before looking between two very incensed individuals.

Hermione nodded in understanding before following Seamus into the yard.  “Oh, and one more thing Ron.”  Hermione said calming down.  “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”  Ron said tiredly and just like that, he found himself alone again.

~


	15. Merry Christmas, Seamus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get this out. So, if there are grammar issues or anything else...well, that's all me! Otherwise, I don't own anything. :-)
> 
> P.S. The next chapter will be a bit of a jump.

Hermione had been very quiet ever since they’d left the Burrow.  She’d been pleasant upon seeing Seamus’ family again and the church service had been lovely.  The only indication that something was off was the way Hermione’s eyes had glistened during the church service –illuminated only by candlelight. 

Seamus wasn’t sure if it was the conversation she’d had with Ron, missing her parents, or a combination of the two. He’d squeezed her hand occasionally, and she’d nodded along, unwilling to look anywhere but the floor until she had recovered her composure.  It was only later, when they sat alone outside, that the two could talk uninterrupted.

“I don’t want to go back to the Burrow.”  Hermione said after a long period of the two sitting uninterrupted on the porch.  Seamus’ parents had taken the more prudent option and immediately gone inside and presumably to bed after the church service.

Seamus wrapped his arm protectively around her.  “So, don’t.”  He said.  “The Weasleys are understanding folks.  Who knows.  Mrs. Weasley may have already gone to bed.  While you were outside talking to Ron, she was inside chastising George for making the gingerbread lookalikes chase Bill and Fleur’s kids around.  They seemed to enjoy it though.  The kids, not Bill and Fleur,” He amended at Hermione’s surprised expression.

Hermione seemed to be waging an internal battle with herself.  “But, Ginny and her mum will be disappointed and I can’t just leave things like that with Ron.  I shouldn’t have yelled at him and right before Christmas.”

“Did you mean whatever it was you said to him?”  Seamus asked.  A cold wind swept through, leading both to shiver.

“Yes and no.”  Hermione said, without elaborating.  In Seamus’ opinion, she seemed distracted.  Her gaze was focused on the moon that hung overhead, its dull light gleaming over the light snow that coated their surroundings.

“Meaning?”  Seamus prodded.

“We pick terrible places to have serious conversations,” Hermione said, without looking at him.

“Want to go inside?”  Seamus asked.  “The guest room is still made up.”

Hermione shrugged.  “I suppose so.  It is getting cold.”  She allowed as another chilly breeze rustled their outer garments.

“Come on then.”  Seamus led her inside, past the Christmas tree.  Its lights were set on a timer which had yet to expire, so the twinkling golden lights bounced across every surface.  Once they were safely inside, Seamus eyed Hermione again.  “You never answered the question.”

“I’m sorry because I was horrible to him. I’m not sorry because there’s still a part of me that can’t let go of what he did.”

“He hurt you.”  Seamus returned.  It wasn’t a question.

Hermione buried her face in her hands.  “He took me for granted and even now doesn’t seem to get it.  He’s only apologized because Harry’s been after both of us to make peace for ages.”  She said between her fingers. “He can call me out whenever he feels like, but heaven forbid someone put him in his place once in a while.”

Seamus shrugged.  “Exactly.  So, whatever you said, he probably deserved it and then some.”

“No, he didn’t.”  Hermione finally decided. “He was trying.  Ron’s awful with emotions and he was _actually trying_.”  She sighed despondently.  “He’s right about one thing.  I can’t keep punishing him for the past.”  She sighed again. “So, what am I supposed to do?  I can’t keep holding on to this anger.  It’s not healthy.  But, I don’t know if things will ever be normal again between us.”

Seamus looked at her seriously.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  Do you still want to be friends with him?  If I were you, I wouldn’t – but you’re also a better person than me.  Plus, I should probably add that I never liked him much anyway.”

Hermione sighed, ignoring Seamus’ last comment.  “I can’t just forget about years of friendship.  He and Harry saved me from a troll in first year.  That’s not something that just goes away.  Without his knowledge, we would’ve never been able to get through the series of tests or weaken Voldemort either.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but Hermione, you’re very good at not answering questions.”  Seamus teased gently.

“What about you?  What did you two talk about?”  Hermione diverted, finally looking up.

“I guess I’ll add subject change expert to your set of skills as well.” 

Hermione elbowed him lightly.

“My poor ribs!”  Seamus complained.  “It was just an observation.”  He looked at Hermione.  “Mostly, we agreed not to kill each other.  I’m no psychologist and sometimes I’d like nothing more than to hex him into oblivion, but I think you’re right.  I think he is sorry and that he misses you in some weird way.”

“It’s easier to hate him.”  Hermione said finally.  “But, I can’t, not really.  I just end up feeling guilty. What kind of person does that make me?”

“A good one.”  Seamus said, taking his shoes off.  Upon seeing Hermione’s confused expression, he laughed.  “Sorry.  Mum would kill me if I messed up the duvet by putting my dirty shoes on the bed.” 

Hermione took that as a hint and removed her shoes as well.  She snorted.  “A good person who has somehow managed to alienate not only her parents but one of her formerly closest friends.”

Seamus stared at her.  “Ron and your parents are two separate issues – but they both have one thing in common.  As much as you like to take blame for everything, neither is your fault.  Any alienating that happened between you and Ron started the moment that he decided it was okay to cheat on you.  As for your parents, you said yourself that they don’t know about all the things you did to protect all us happy magic users.  Honestly, Hermione.  You’re making yourself miserable and for what?  It’s Christmas!  You’ve got plenty of people around who love you.  Your parents will come around.  Merlin knows my mum’s family wasn’t elated to have a Muggle in the family at first.”

“But your dad’s family…”  Hermione wondered aloud.

“Best not to think that way.”  Seamus agreed.

“And Ron?”  Hermione asked.

“He’s up to you.”  Seamus said.  “He’d probably punch me in the face if given half the chance and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t do the same – but we don’t get to choose what happens between you two and neither does he.  If you want to forgive him, that’s your decision to make.  It doesn’t matter what anyone else wants.  Besides, I guess he’s not the _worst_ person in the world.”

“Voldemort?”  Hermione offered.

“Actually, I was thinking about Carmen and her spawn, but him too.”  “Anyway, I think that’s enough psychobabble for the night.”  He said grinning at her.

Hermione returned his smile.  “You know, if teaching doesn’t work out, you’d make a pretty good counselor.”

“Oi. Don’t spread that around.” Seamus said, feigning offense.  “Dean would _never_ let me hear the end of it.  I can see it now.”  He finished as he thought of the various nicknames that Dean would undoubtedly come up with, all of them unflattering.

Hermione laughed and hugged him.  “Don’t worry.  Your secret’s safe with me.”  She paused, uncertain where to go from there.  “I guess I should head back to the Burrow…”  Hermione trailed off reluctantly. 

“At this hour?”  Seamus asked incredulously.  It was just past one.  “That seems unreasonable.” He paused mischievously.  “Besides, I hear rumor that Santa Claus doesn’t come visit houses if any of its occupants are awake.” Seamus nudged her. “Better stay here tonight, just in case.  After all, we wouldn’t want any of Bill’s kids to miss out on all of those extra presents just because _some_ of us just had to honor an agreement.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Seamus Finnigan.  You and I both know that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.”  She began.

It was Seamus’ turn to roll his eyes.  “ _Really?_!”  He stressed incredulously.  “You attended a Wizarding School.  You fought alongside centaurs and animated stone statues, against a man who split his soul into several pieces.  For Merlin’s sake, I’m turning into a leprechaun—and _you don’t believe in Santa Claus?!_ ”  Seamus all but exclaimed.

“Well, of course not.”  Hermione admitted to a still-incredulous Seamus.

Seamus sighed heavily.  “Think back to all of the presents that you got growing up.  Was there ever one you received that you really wanted—but your parents could not possibly have obtained?”

Hermione wracked her brain, still skeptical.  “No…”  She said tentatively.

“Are you sure?”  Seamus asked, eyebrows raised.

Hermione bit her lip.  “Well, I did get a Doodle Bear one year and a Skip-It.  My parents thought both were rather silly ideas, actually.  I think the real surprise was an inflatable chair.”  She paused.  “There’s no way they would’ve known I wanted that.”  She breathed.  “I just figured one of my aunts bought it or something.”

Seamus laughed.  “And now?”  He asked.

“You’re not going to convince me with one little present or two.”  She said pragmatically.

“Well, fortunately for you, even skeptics get presents.”  Seamus said, winking.  “I’ll convince you yet.”  He said, determined.

Hermione shook her head.  “If you say so.”  She said, but she didn’t sound as matter-of-fact.  “Santa Claus or no Santa Claus, I’d hate to have Mrs. Weasley waiting up for nothing.”

 “I told you, it’s just as likely that her extended family wore her out.”  Seamus said quickly.

Hermione eyed him skeptically.  “Is there something I don’t know about?”  She asked, suddenly curious.

Seamus looked slightly guilty.  “Erm. Don’t be mad, but-”

“What did you do?”  Hermione interrupted.

Seamus feigned offense.  “Me?!?!  Why is it always me?” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Fine.”  Seamus sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “Remember how I told you that we’d drop you off at the Burrow after church?”

“Yes…”  Hermione trailed off, deciding she knew where this was going.

“My mum may not have thought that you’d want to go back to the Burrow after church.  So, she _might_ have said as much to Mrs. Weasley.”  Seamus said, glancing up at Hermione to gauge her reaction.

A small smile traced itself across Hermione’s lips.  “Your mum is shameless.”

Seamus laughed.  “Probably, but she means well.”  He paused.  “Plus, you know she likes you. Not just anyone gets an open invitation to stay at ‘House Finnigan.’”  Seamus adopted an overly fancy tone and Hermione smacked him with a pillow.

“Ouch.  Woman, those fancy pillows are lethal.”

Hermione shrugged.  “All the better for me, I suppose.”  She smirked when Seamus replaced the decorative pillows with actual pillows from the closet. 

“There, much better.”  He said appraisingly.

Hermione lounged on the bed, appreciating the decidedly more comfortable pillows before staring at Seamus. “That reminds me.  When I came outside, Ron was saying something about me hating Quidditch.”  She trailed off expectantly.

“Oh that.”  Seamus said.  “Yes, well, I may have mentioned that I got you something for Christmas and he was trying to give me gift advice.  He needn’t have bothered.  I do have enough sense not to buy you Chudley Cannons merchandise.  Then again, I can’t imagine a worse gift.  At least you can burn coal.”

Hermione laughed.  “Seamus!”  She half-scolded.  “I’m sure he meant well.”  She defended weakly, remembering years previous where Ron had decided Quidditch socks for everyone had been a good idea.  “Besides, you really didn’t have to do that. We’ve got much bigger things to worry about than presents…” She trailed off, busily making excuses.

Seamus raised an eyebrow.  “Oh, so you didn’t get me anything?”  He eyed his girlfriend skeptically.

“Maybe a small thing, nothing too big, you know.”  Hermione wheedled, trying to gloss over that important fact.

Seamus adopted a tone that sounded entirely too much like Hermione for her liking.  “Mmhm.” He intoned.  “I see.”

Hermione folded her arms defensively.  “Really, it’s not that impressive.”  She said.

“Neither is mine, really.”  Seamus said stubbornly.  He gestured to a small, lumpy package.

“What is it?”  Hermione asked curiously.

Seamus sighed heavily.  He slightly regretted not retrieving his liquid courage back from Ron.  Unlike what he’d told the gangly Weasley, Seamus hadn’t brought the whiskey purely to get through dinner earlier.  Really, he’d brought it to help him get up the nerve right now.   Internally, he cursed himself.  It had seemed like such a great idea a few day ago.  Now, he just felt like an idiot.

“Seamus?”  Hermione asked worriedly.

“Right, sorry.  Um.”  Seamus prattled on nervously.  “So, my mum had hoped to pass this down to a daughter, but she got stuck with me instead.  Obviously, that put a wrench in her plans, but she gave it to me anyway, hoping that I might have someone to give it to.”

Hermione stared at him about the time Seamus appeared to run out of words.  “Er, just open it.”  Seamus said, handing her the parcel and sitting next to her on the bed.

Hermione opened the tiny bag to reveal a silver ring.  The design was intricate and simple all in one.  Two hands clasped a heart which was, itself, adorned with a crown.

Seamus took her silence as a bad sign.  “If you don’t like it, I completely understand. I just-” 

“It’s beautiful.”  Hermione breathed.

“It’s a Claddagh ring.  It means different things, depending on how you wear it.”  Seamus explained.  “If you even want to wear it, that is.”  He clarified.

“I do.”  Hermione said, about to slip it on her left hand.

At this, it was Seamus’ turn to blush.  “Er, you may want to put it on your right hand.”  He said quickly.

“Maybe you’d better tell what different ways of wearing it mean before I embarrass myself.”  Hermione raised an eyebrow, smirking.  Seamus suspected that Hermione knew more than she was letting on.    

“Well, left hand ring finger is about what you’d expect – married or engaged.”  Seamus eyed Hermione who was now also blushing.  “Like I was saying, you’d probably want to put it on your right hand. If the point of the heart is toward you, it means you’re in a relationship.  If it’s away from you, you’re single.”

Hermione slipped the ring on her right hand, with the point of the heart toward her.  “If your gift is ‘not impressive,’ I’m excited to see what you consider ‘impressive.’” Her teasing tone was replaced by one of awe.  “I’m not so sure I want to give you your gift now.”   She said.

Seamus shrugged.  “You said yourself that we have bigger things to worry about than presents.”

Hermione sighed before handing Seamus something that from internally bottomless beaded bag of hers.  “This really isn’t much.”  She said.

With her presentation, Seamus wasn’t sure what to expect.  Part of him wondered if it would be _Hogwarts, A History,_ or maybe a new version of Exploding Snap?  He was not expecting what appeared to be a homemade quilt, which itself was wrapped around a voucher for Ollivander’s. 

“Well, I couldn’t just pick out a new wand for you, now could I?”  Hermione said, meeting Seamus’ equally-awed expression.  “Besides, NEWTS are coming up and we both know that you’ll have better luck with your own wand than mine.”

“But, I thought once a wand selected you…”  Seamus trailed off, surprised he hadn’t thought of this solution before.  He really was an idiot sometimes.

“Oh, please.”  Hermione shrugged. “Ron had a hand-me-down wand for quite some time.  After that business with the Whomping Willow, it never did work quite right.  After Harry’s wand broke, he used the Elder Wand.  What I’m saying is that things happen and frankly, you need a replacement wand while we sort out the business with your current wand.  Besides, worst case scenario, you’ll have a back-up wand at your disposal—a lesson Harry could’ve benefited from during the Battle of Hogwarts.”  Hermione added as an afterthought.  “Oh, and before you say anything about the cost, the ticket for Ollivander’s is a joint present, from all the Gryffindors.”  She winked.  “Think of it as a preventative measure.  We all appreciate the Common Room in one piece!”

Seamus laughed.  “Dean and Neville play Exploding Snap too, you know—and that has _nothing to do with my wand_!”  He defended.

Hermione only laughed.  “Even still.”  She said.

Seamus ignored her, choosing to focus instead on the quilt.  “Did you _make_ this?”  He asked incredulously.  It was a piecework quilt that featured a Quidditch field as its main image, with tiny fliers that looked suspiciously like the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams from their fifth year.  The image was still, but the way Hermione had designed it, it looked like the quaffle was seconds away from being hit through the center ring and the snitch was whizzing innocently about in the background.  One bludger lingered by the Slytherin beater, while the other looked on cusp of being hit by one of the Gryffindor beaters.  Seamus couldn’t tell if the beater was supposed to be Fred or George.  Then again, he supposed that was the point.

“Well, I didn’t hand stitch it, if that’s what you’re asking, but sewing machines are pretty useful.”  Hermione admitted.

“Wow.”  Seamus looked at the stitching.  “That’s incredible.”

Hermione blushed.  “I’m glad you like it.”

Seamus shook his head.  “When did you even have time for this?”  He asked her.

Hermione shrugged. “Oh, I made time here and there.”  She said, noncommittally.

Seamus shook his head again.  “You’re scary sometimes.”

“Scary how?”  Hermione asked.

“I didn’t know you could quilt.”

“Neither did I actually. I was hoping it turned out okay.  I haven’t quilted since my mum…”  Hermione trailed off, suddenly looking a bit somber.

Seamus instantly felt guilty.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay.”  Hermione said quickly.  “I’m sure there will be more opportunities in the future.”  She changed the subject abruptly.  “I know it’s late, but are you tired?”  She asked.

Seamus yawned.  “Not really.  I think my mum bought some cinnamon tea and I guarantee there are at least five kinds of sweets downstairs.  She can never make up her mind about desserts – so, she makes them all and pawns them off on everyone.”  He rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

“Being force-fed biscuits and cakes doesn’t sound like the worst fate.”

“Stay here a little longer, you’ll see.  It’s a miracle I haven’t grown horizontally.”

“Are you sure about that?”  Hermione asked teasingly.  “That jumper is looking a little snug!”

“Oh yeah?”  Seamus asked.  “We’ll see about that.  Do I feel heavier?!”  He asked before tackling Hermione onto the bed.

“Oof.”  Hermione muttered beneath him.  “Geroff!”  She tried unsuccessfully to push a very determined Seamus off of her.

“Take it back!”  Seamus challenged.

“Never!”  Hermione said, pushing back with all of her might until they crashed onto the floor. 

Down the hall, a light flickered on.

“Now, you’ve done it!”  Seamus muttered, rubbing his shoulder tenderly.

“Me?!”  Hermione asked incredulously from her spot on top of him. “You started it!”

Seamus’ mum poked her head in.  “Everything okay in here?”  She asked worriedly as Hermione scrambled to get off of Seamus.

“Everything’s fine mum.  Hermione’s just called me fat is all.”  Seamus said matter-of-factly.

“I was _joking_!”  Hermione said, instantly embarrassed.  She found herself staring out the window.

Maggie pretended to consider.  “Hmm.  You are looking a bit heavier these days.”  She mused.

Seamus was horrified.  “ _Mum!_ ” 

Meanwhile, Hermione let out an excited gasp.  “It’s snowing!”  She whispered happily.

Seamus yawned.  “Yeah, so?  It snowed before and it’ll probably snow again.”  He stared at his mum, still defensive.  “And, I am _not_ fat!”

At that, both women rolled their eyes at him.

“No, I only mean it’s poetic because it’s Christmas morning.  Haven’t you watched any old holiday movies?!”  Hermione said, staring at Seamus.

Seamus shrugged.  “Not really."

Maggie sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Please.  If it doesn’t feature massive explosions or ridiculous plot lines, my son is not interested.  Truly, I’ve failed as a parent.”  She sighed overly dramatically.

“Hey now!”  Seamus defended.  “I’ve seen some Christmas movies.”

“Die Hard is _not_ a Christmas movie.”  Hermione interjected.

“It happened during the Christmas season. Ergo, Christmas movie. It’s science.” Seamus folded his arms.

Hermione sighed.  “Fine.  Have you seen any _other_ Christmas movies?”

“Like?”  Seamus asked.

“It’s a Wonderful Life…” Hermione began but was abruptly interrupted.

“I have and it was most certainly not a wonderful life.”  Seamus said.

“Yes, it was!”  Hermione huffed.

Maggie shook her head at Hermione sympathetically.  “You’re fighting a losing battle.”  She tried to stifle a yawn before looking at the younger generation.  “And I am too. Think I’ll put some tea on.  Care to join?  I don’t imagine being able to get back to sleep with Liam huffing and puffing in there.”  She gestured toward the master bedroom where, as if timed, a loud snore erupted, followed by a smaller, drawn out wheeze.

“Blackberry?”  Seamus asked hopefully as the two followed Mrs. Finnigan downstairs quietly.

Mrs. Finnigan chuckled.  “Anything for my precious baby.”  She said in an overly mothering voice as Hermione snorted. “Would you like a biscuit to go with it?”

“You see what I deal with?” Seamus asked Hermione before rolling his eyes at his mum and muttering something that sounded distinctly like “maybe.”

“Well, someone needs to put you in your place now and again.”  Hermione said, her eyes shining.  “Besides, I’m sure it’s all out of love.”

Mrs. Finnigan nodded approvingly.  “Too right it is.”  She looked at Seamus meaningfully.  “You’d better be careful.  I’m starting to like her more than you.”  She said winking at both before turning her attention back to the tea kettle.

Seamus crossed his arms. “Well then.  I’ll take my biscuit outside.”  He harrumphed and grabbed a sweet and his boots half-jokingly.

“Seamus!” Hermione shot a worried expression at Mrs. Finnigan—who only laughed and shook her head at her son’s dramatics—before following Seamus outside.

“What?” Seamus asked curiously once Hermione joined him.  “I was only joking.  I wasn’t even going to stay out here a minute.”  He surveyed her quickly.  “Aren’t you cold?”  He asked.

Hermione realized that in her haste, she was without shoes and coat and quickly cast a warming charm over both of them for good measure.  “No.”

The two stood in silence for a minute.

“You were right, you know.  The snow is more impressive than I thought.”  Seamus said appreciatively as he watched the snowflakes gather on their clothes. 

“Well then.”  Hermione said, grinning triumphantly.  “Since you’re okay, want to go back inside?  I hear that food doesn’t have calories after midnight and we both know you’re watching your girlish figure.”

Seamus laughed.  “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll stay outside for a bit.  The surroundings just got prettier.”  He said winking at Hermione.

Hermione scoffed.  “Are you trying to sweet talk me, Mr. Finnigan?”  She asked.

“Only if it’s working.”  Seamus said as he inched closer.  

“You know, I’m not the only insufferable one out here.”  Hermione said, before leaning lazily into Seamus as the two watched the snow fall.

“Maybe that’s why we work. Selectively serious and always stubborn.”  Seamus said, engulfing her in a hug.

“Maybe you’re right.”  Hermione said, contemplating.  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Seamus looked at her as though she’d spoken Gobbledegook.  “Like I said, I’m pretty sure it’s in my job description somewhere.”  He paused.  “Anyway, I’m glad you like your ring.”  He said, smiling at her.

“I do.”  Hermione said, looking at the silver ring.  “Thank you, for everything."  She said seriously.  "And I’m sorry if I called you fat.”  She added as an afterthought.

Seamus snorted.  “Believe me, I’ve heard way worse _from my mum_.”  He stressed. Both of them laughed.  “Happy Christmas, Hermione.”  Seamus whispered once they’d stopped and Hermione could feel her insides practically melting.  

“Happy Christmas.”  She returned, but couldn’t say much more because almost instantly, Seamus’ mouth was on hers and she found herself forgetting the dramatics of earlier.  Seamus’ grip tightened on Hermione as the two continued their kiss.  He ran his fingers through her damp hair and she sighed contentedly into his mouth. _Stupid Irishmen and their ability to make things better_ , Hermione thought to herself before deciding that there was no place she'd rather be in that moment. Based on the intensity of his kiss, Seamus appeared to agree. 

They probably would’ve spent longer outside, had a hexed snowball not pummeled them in the face.  “Alright, you two!  Enough of that!”  Mrs. Finnigan whispered loudly from the doorway.  “Your tea’s going to get cold,” she admonished as she ushered them back inside. 

Privately, Maggie couldn’t have been more pleased.  She watched the two lovebirds situate themselves at the kitchen table, perhaps a bit closer than necessary.  She smiled to herself.  It was shaping up to be a very happy Christmas indeed.  

~


	16. Potion Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! (But, I also suck at updating - which may be an understatement of the century.) Thank you for your patience!
> 
> I own nothing! :-)

Hermione was filled with uncharacteristic dread.  Today was the day.  They’d been waiting months for this and now that all the students were back and settled at Hogwarts, it was time.  They’d agreed to meet exactly one week after returning to school.  Each had prepared extensively with an array of defensive spells. Even Ron and Harry had agreed to take an uncharacteristically long lunch break to help. (Unfortunately, no one had told Ron that he was not actually getting lunch during this unplanned Hogwarts field trip.  So, he was a bit peevish.)

On one side, stood the Gryffindors.  Opposite them, stood Draco and a very bored looking Theodore Nott.  The later was rolling his eyes at Ron’s dramatics.

Hermione was especially nervous because Seamus had not wanted them to tell McGonagall what they were up to.  Draco had thrown up his hands in exasperation and asked if Seamus had a death wish. 

Now, as they all stood facing the cauldron and anxiously eying one another, Hermione felt herself having second thoughts. In her opinion, this was perhaps the most colossally stupid thing that she’d agreed to –and she’d agreed to a lot of stupid things over the years, courtesy of Harry and Ron.

“Can we get this over with?”  Theodore complained loudly.  His tone cut through the silence.

“You don’t have to be here, you know.”  Dean returned snidely.

“Yeah?”  Theodore turned to leave.

“Stay where you are.”  Draco commanded.

“For what?  These idiots couldn’t extract a memory from a Pensieve.  At this rate, we’re going to miss dinner. I can’t believe I even agreed to help.” 

Ron looked as though he might faint at the prospect of missing two meals until Harry handed him a chocolate frog in exasperation.

Draco rolled his eyes at Theo.  “Do you want Mr. Walking Potions Accident over there to have a possessed wand?”

Theo smirked evilly.  “Him, no.”

“Yeah?”  Seamus asked as he thrust his former wand toward the nonchalant Slytherin.  “Want to have a go?”

“Well, at least you’re not denying your disaster-prone capabilities.”  Theo said under his breath.

Ron snorted, spewing little bits of chocolate frog everywhere, including in Parvati’s hair.  She shot him a disgusted look.

“I’m going to need a shower after this.”  Parvati groaned, still glaring at Ron.

“I told you. It was the fecking wand!”  Seamus nearly shouted at Theo.

Theo brushed off imaginary dust.  “Whatever, hobbit.” He said to a now-enraged Seamus.

_This wasn’t going well._   Hermione cleared her throat loudly and attempted to regain some semblance of order.  “Does everyone have the sheet of spells I prepared?  I consolidated all the ones you found and indexed them from most to least likely to work, depending on how this extraction goes.  The ones in the left column are for malevolent spirits, the ones on the right are for anything with a corporal form.”  She paused.  “Harry was able to add a few from the Auror handbook as well.”

“Which I’d appreciate you forgetting as soon as this is over.”  Harry said through gritted teeth.  “Those aren’t supposed to be for public consumption.”

Draco waved him off.  “Yeah, yeah.  We get it Potter. Ministry integrity and all that.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “As I was _saying_ ,” she continued.  “ _Thank you, Harry._ ”  She stressed, while looking meaningfully at Draco.  Her tone had an edge.  “we don’t know what we’re dealing with.  So, it’s important that we be prepared for all possible outcomes.  Does anyone have any questions?”

No one spoke.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked at Draco.  “Well then.  Is the potion ready?”  Draco nodded.  “Seamus, if you would?”  She asked as the Irishman handed his wand over to the blonde Slytherin.

“Here goes nothing.”  Theo said dryly.  Everyone else held a collective breath as Draco captured the required amount of potion in a vial and carefully poured it over Seamus’ wand.

Initially, nothing happened, and they were left starring at each other.

“Well, this was a bloody waste of time.”  Ron snorted again.

“Patience, Weasel.”  Draco said, eying him dangerously. “It takes a minute to coat the wand properly--which you’d know if you or Potter managed to stay awake in Potions once in a while.”

As if sensing the truth in Draco’s words, the wand began to hiss and crackle.  It it took on a soft glow and an orange fracture traced itself across the wand’s length. Immediately, Draco dropped the wand in the middle of the room and all trained their wands on the metamorphizing length of wood.

At first, the wand was non-threatening.  There were a few wisps of smoke – which wouldn’t have been concerning except that none of the spells that Hermione or any of the others shot at the wind appeared to disrupt the flow of smoke.  If anything, the smoke appeared to be growing and darkening.

_This can’t be good_ , Hermione thought.  She quickly wracked her brain, while preparing for the worst.  In the time she and the others had thrown everything that the Ministry and the late Half-Blood Prince had to offer the smoke had localized and disappeared.  In its place stood a dark-haired man.  A very familiar dark-haired man, Hermione realized.

 “Well, well, well.”  The man from the textbook drawled leisurely.  “It’s about time you got me out of there.”  Dub grinned at them.  “I was getting awfully bored.  You just _had_ to have a phoenix feather core, didn’t you?”  He narrowed his eyes at Seamus.  “Infernal thing kept blocking my efforts to escape.  They don’t say it’s resistant to Dark Arts for nothing.”  He threw off his last words with a wave.  “No matter.  I’m free now.”  He winked.  “I wonder what _would_ have happened if you’d left me in there.”  At this, he laughed as Seamus turned multiple shades of red and purple.

_This had all been a set-up_ , Hermione realized painfully.

“Very good, Miss Granger.”  Dub seemed to read her thoughts. Lazily, he shifted his stance.  “My mum managed to teach me a few good spells. Mighty handy curse she cast all those years ago.”  He eyed Seamus, not looking at all regretful.  “It was a means to an end, you understand.”  He paused, unfazed by their murderous expressions. “Anyway, you’ll forgive me if I can’t stay.  It’s high time I got the band back together.  Best of luck to you!  Then again,” He grinned at Seamus evilly, “soon you won’t need it!” With that, he disappeared with a pop before any of them could launch another spell.

“Well that went well.”  Draco deadpanned. Others murmured in agreement. 

Seamus and Hermione shared an equally distraught expression before Hermione put her head in her hands.  _They were definitely going to have to tell McGonagall now._


	17. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, all of my classes have decided the next few days are the perfect time to require that all the projects, tests and homeworks be completed. Hooray! In the meantime, here's a short little chapter. The only things I own are the errors! :-)

The minute that Dub disappeared, the tower erupted in a sea of frantic discussions.

“His brothers are dead.  We saw it in the literature.”  Seamus said.

“Well, so was Dub until recently.”  Draco returned dryly.

“No, he created a spell to keep some of his essence alive before he died. Who’s to say that his brothers didn’t do the same?”  Hermione returned.

“And even if he didn’t, there are plenty of Dark Spells to resurrect the dead.”  Draco said resignedly.  “And _this_ is why I said we should tell McGonagall.”  Draco winced as though the admission physically pained him.

Harry appeared to ignore the second part of Draco’s exclamation.  Instead, he exchanged a look with Ron.  “Meaning when this is over, we could bring back Sirius?”  He asked hopefully.

“Don’t be stupid, Potter.  They’re called Dark Spells for a reason.”  Draco bit back, rolling his eyes. “As an Auror, you of all people should know that.”

“Sorry, apparently that wasn’t on the qualification exam.”  Harry said sarcastically. 

“They bring back the dead but at a cost.”  Theo continued, uncharacteristically attempting to defuse the brewing conflict.  

“What kind of cost?”  Dean wanted to know.

“The kind you don’t want to pay.”  Draco said solemnly before his tone softened slightly. “Sorry Potter, but you had to have wondered why people don’t just come back from the dead otherwise.”

Harry nodded understandingly, but Dean persisted.  “But what’s the cost exactly?”

“You know how Horcruxes split the soul?”  Hermione asked.  When everyone nodded, she continued. “So, do many of the resurrection spells.  At least one requires you to sacrifice one piece of your soul for every portion of a deceased person’s soul you’d like to bring back.  Much like life, death has to have a balance – and once performed, your soul isn’t just split, the portion or portions you’ve sacrificed are gone, lost beyond the veil and you won’t get them back until both you and the person you resurrect die. Even then, you can never fully restore your soul.  You may recover the pieces, but you’ll never again be fully whole.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “How do you, of all people know this?”

“How does Hermione know anything?”  Parvati shrugged.  “She reads a lot.”

Theo rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, except this isn’t the sort of ‘light reading’ material you’d find freely accessible in the Hogwarts library.”

“She found out from me.”  Draco said quietly.

“Well, you _are_ the authority on Dark Spells, aren’t you?”  Theo said under his breath.

Draco raised a brow at Theo, as if to imply he certainly wasn’t the sole authority in the room.  “ _Regardless_ ,” he stressed, “the spells exist and it’s probably safe to assume that Dub knows at least one.”

“But, which?”  Hermione wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer.

“We’ll need more research, of course.  That seems to be your specialty, Granger.”  Draco intoned.

Hermione huffed, but didn’t disagree with him.  Barring this failure, she usually prided herself on being thorough.

“But what about Dub?”  Seamus asked, addressing the elephant in the room.  “He’s not going to just sit around and wait for us to figure out how to stop him.”

Draco nodded. “We’ll have to research the spell, but hopefully that will be as a last resort.  Seamus, you and Hermione researched Dub’s brothers over break, correct?”

“Yeah,” Seamus said sullenly.

“Good.”  Draco said. “We’ll start there, if either of you would like to fill in the others?”  He intoned.

Seamus and Hermione exchanged a look, each willing the other to explain.  After Hermione could no longer take the silence, she folded her arms and glared at Seamus.  “We tracked their individual histories.  It’s likely that Dian was caught in the Pompeii explosion and is one of the unidentified bodies forever preserved in the rubble.  Dothur’s going to be even harder.  He’s likely at the bottom of the Atlantic somewhere.

“Oh, good and here I thought it was going to be _hard_.”  Ron said. 

Hermione gave him a look reminiscent of Snape’s expression toward Harry on the first day of Potions.  At the look, Ron faltered.  It probably hadn’t helped his case that Hermione was still rather put out by his holiday behavior.  He shifted under Hermione’s unyielding gaze.  “Erm, as you were saying.”  He trailed off uncomfortably.

Seamus and Malfoy exchanged a look of mirth, each appreciating Hermione’s capability to shut up the cranky redhead.

“Right.” Hermione nodded matter-of-factly, ignoring the others. “It’s unlikely that Dub knows this information, or would know where to start looking for his brothers. If anything, he’s likely to start in Ireland.  However, if he can’t find anything, it won’t take him long to track down a book much like we did. So, we need to act quickly, to make the most of what little advantage we have.”

 “So, we just have to beat Dub to his brothers.”  Neville said quietly.  The others stared at him, seemingly having forgotten he was there.

“Exactly.”  Hermione agreed.  “And, if there are any remains, we’ll need to destroy them and separate whatever traces are left such that no wizard or witch can ever restore them.”

“Great, and just how do we do that?”  Dean wanted to know. 

 “We could burn the remains?  My gran used to say that was the fastest way to silence evil spirits.”  Neville offered.

“What about basilisk venom?”  Harry wanted to know.

Draco nodded.  “Both should work.  I vote we start with that stupid wand.”  He made a motion to retrieve the charred remains from the stone floor.

“Wait.” Hermione interjected, reaching to grab the wand before Draco could.  “We can still use Seamus’ wand.  If there’s any trace of Dub still there, couldn’t we use that to determine where he is or where he’s going?  That could help us figure out how much time we have.  Plus, if he’s close to one brother, then we should switch our focus to finding the other one.  The important thing is we stop all three brothers from uniting.”

“What if the same trace that allows us to track Dub also allows him to keep track of us?”  Harry worried.

Draco nodded.  “A valid concern.  A few diagnostic spells should help us figure out just what the wand is capable of.”

At this, Seamus piped up. “I get the importance of finding Dub’s brothers and all, but maybe we should go after Dub’s bones first.  If we destroy him, then we don’t have to worry about him resurrecting his brothers in the first place.”

Theo eyed Seamus appreciatively.  “I underestimated you, Finnigan.”

Draco quickly interjected, shaking his head.  “Dub will have thought of that.  He knows where he’s buried.  We don’t.  With that in mind, we won’t beat him to America, but we might beat him in figuring out where his brothers are.”

Seamus looked slightly defeated at this. “I guess you’re right.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, which this time suggested something along the lines of “you think?”

Theo paused, as he contemplated the options on a problem that he had unwittingly been dragged into.  When he’d first volunteered to help, he hadn’t realized that Draco would actually take him up on it.  Sighing, he finally spoke again.  “Resurrection spells are tricky and the ingredients are not widely available.  After the defeat of You-Know-Who, wizards – even Dark wizards – are reluctant to stock all ingredients needed for any such spell for fear of being named a collaborator or accused of trying to bring the Dark Lord back.”

“Willing to bet I know at least one place that is willing to overlook that possibility.”  Ron said between gritted teeth. “Borgin and Burkes.”

Draco regarded the red-head seriously.  “That might be the first useful thing you’ve said, Weasley.”

Hermione realized that the conversation had quickly moved off topic.  “First things first.  We _need_ to tell McGonagall.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.”  Draco intoned, much as though he was talking to a small child.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “I meant _now_.”

Draco smirked. “Yes, well, you and Finnigan have fun with that.  The rest of us will be in the library.”

The others agreed emphatically, none particularly keen on dealing with who would certainly be an irate Scottish witch.

Hermione glared at him.  “Oh no you don’t, Malfoy.”  She said.  “You’re coming too.”

“You can’t be serious.”  Malfoy drawled.

“Oh, I am.”  Hermione said emphatically.

“Sucks to be you.”  Theo said under his breath as Hermione practically dragged Seamus and Draco behind her.

After she was gone, Ron leaned over to Harry conspiratorially.  “You know, it’s times like this, I’m glad we’ve left Hogwarts.  Less than a year ago, that would’ve been us.”

“Don’t worry, Ron.  I’m sure Hermione hasn’t forgotten about your little stunt over Christmas.  In the meantime, I’ve to shower because someone seems to have forgotten the very basic principles of eating.”  Parvati said, sneering at Ron.  “Harry, a pleasure as always.”  She acknowledged politely before stomping back to the Gryffindor dormitories. Hannah followed her, apologizing behind her as she said something about a mandatory Hufflepuff meeting.

Harry exchanged a look with the remaining tower occupants.  “Much as I’d like to stay, I’m pretty sure Shacklebot will have my head if I stay any longer.”  He said reluctantly.  “Ron’s too.  Then again, if Dub doesn’t fly under the radar, he may become the Ministry’s problem too.”

After Harry and Ron left, Theo stared at Neville and Dean before sighing despondently.  “So, it seems I’m stuck with you lot.”

“Shut up.”  Dean said.  “Let’s just go to the library.”

Neville looked between the two and quickly voiced his agreement.  At least Madam Pince would not abide murder under her watch – if only because blood spatter counted as book destruction in her mind.

~

“So, I take it this was not an extra credit assignment for Professor Slughorn as I was initially led to believe?”  McGonagall said, glaring at them over her desk.  She knit her hands together before surveying Draco, Hermione and Seamus individually.  “I expected better from all three of you.”  She said primly.  “However,” she continued, “what’s done is done. Do you still have the wand, Mr. Finnigan?”  She asked.

Chastened, Seamus only nodded.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?”  She asked in a tone that brokered no argument. “Give it here!” 

“Why?”  Seamus started to ask before McGonagall silenced him with a look.

“The time for questions is past, Mr. Finnigan.  If I am to guess, you are the reason I was not aware of this sooner.”  She narrowed her eyes further.  “And yes, Mr. Finnigan, I am aware of your situation.  In case you have forgotten, I do make it my business to know what my students are up to.  What I was unaware of was the depths you would go to, to resolve your situation without consulting me.”  She finished sternly.  Seamus’ inability to meet her eye only confirmed her theory. “Luckily for you, I don’t have the time to assign detentions, nor do I see it as a worthwhile punishment, in light of the very real threat you students have released.”

Whispering an incantation that Hermione didn’t recognize, McGonagall waved her wand over Dub’s former prison.  The charred remains glowed a faint yellow before all light was dashed.

McGonagall shook her head.  “Whatever magic that wand housed is no more.”  She paused, eying Draco and Hermione meaningfully, “which is unfortunate if you had hoped to use the wand to track the menace you’ve released.”  She said, appearing to have read their thoughts.  “As it is, you are more familiar with this ‘Dub’ than I.  I expect everything you know about this on my desk by tomorrow morning – or I shall have to reconsider my stance on punishment.”  She said, glancing at all three of them as she spoke. “Yes, even you, Mr. Malfoy. I’m sure Professor Slughorn would not object, given that his name was used as your excuse.”  She said at Draco’s indignant expression.   “In the meantime, I shall reach out to my contacts, to see if any know of anything that would be useful.”  She paused and glared at them meaningfully.  “If that is all, I believe you three have a spirit to stop.”

As they turned to leave, McGongall cleared her throat.  “Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?  Do be careful during your next Borgin and Burke’s excursion.  I would _hate_ to have to field unpleasant questions from the Ministry.  Several of the new recruits seem to think it is only a matter of time before you and Mr. Nott follow in your fathers’ footsteps.  Mr. Borgin seems to think similarly. Do not give either party further reason to think this.”  She said, seriously.

Draco nodded quietly before following the other two to the library. He glanced over at Granger and Finnigan who were talked animatedly.  It was going to be a long evening indeed.  He could already feel the beginnings of a migraine.


End file.
